


Daybreak

by ineffablesheep



Series: The Daybreak Universe [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Also this is a very unbucky-like Bucky, Awesome Shuri (Marvel), B.A.R.F. | Binarily Augmented Retro Framing, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Depression, Fix-It of Sorts, Genius Shuri (Marvel), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Identity Issues, M/M, Not outright hateful but if you like Team Cap you probably won't like this, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychiatry based loosely on author's own experiences, Rated for possible future events and Bucky's flashbacks, Russian Bucky Barnes, Science Nerd Bucky Barnes, Scientist Shuri (Marvel), Slow Build, Teeth, This has like zero plot it's just these two being oblivious, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Wakanda, not team Cap friendly, possibly the quickest slow build ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 05:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13140321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablesheep/pseuds/ineffablesheep
Summary: It was hard to describe what it was like in cryo. It wasn't like sleeping, you didn't dream, and it wasn't like blinking and discovering that in a moment everything had changed. It was more like your body, your brain, just... stopped. Like floating in a white haze where time didn't happen. It was almost like freedom.With that being said, Bucky knew that barely any time had passed even before he opened his eyes. It was practically an instinct at this point. Blinking his eyes open, he was met with the sight of the King of Wakanda and, of all people, Tony Stark.--------Or: Bucky wakes up in Wakanda to find the man that should hate him trying to help him, his self-proclaimed best friend running around with his head in the sand, and a future he never thought he'd have. He didn't expect that apologising to Stark would turn into something more





	1. Wakey Wakey

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a drabble based off of a prompt and my brain decided that it needed a full context backstory and decided that I was going to write this instead. One day I might get around to writing the original prompt.
> 
> Anyhow, I'm not sure where this fic is going but Bucky and Tony will end up together and Steve might sort himself out. I'm not sure I've read a Bucky like this one before, so I hope you like him. I've also never written something this long before so we'll see how that goes - as I post this I've got three chapters written

 

 

It was hard to describe what it was like in cryo. It wasn't like sleeping, you didn't dream, and it wasn't like blinking and discovering that in a moment everything had changed. It was more like your body, your brain, just... stopped. Like floating in a white haze where time didn't happen. It was almost like freedom.

 

With that being said, Bucky knew that barely any time had passed even before he opened his eyes. It was practically an instinct at this point. Blinking his eyes open, he was met with the sight of the King of Wakanda and, of all people, Tony Stark.

 

"Wha... why 'm way?" Bucky managed to get out. Stupid cryo, always dried his mouth out and made him groggy.

"Sargent Barnes, take your time." Was that the King speaking?

"Vitals are normalising, Your Majesty. Sargent Barnes should regain his usual senses in the next five minutes." Who was that? Bucky twitched and tried to turn to face the source. Strong hands guide him to sit on a soft couch and Bucky goes willingly.

"Why 'm I awake? What's happening?" he rasped. Sitting, yes, much easier on his cryo-weak body. Now if he could get a glass of water...

"Here."

 

Bucky blinks and in front of him is Stark, a glass of water in his outstretched right hand. Bucky didn't miss how the other man was standing as far away as he possibly could, and the slight tremor in his left hand. Slowly, he reached out and took the glass, offering a small smile. Stark, however, didn't even make eye contact, focus just over Bucky's right shoulder as he sits on a chair opposite Bucky. The King joins them on his own chair a moment later.

 

The water helped with his dry mouth and was cold enough to wake him up a little more. He was still in the same room that he'd gone into cryo in, the King looked the same if a little tired, and the bruising on Stark's face was gone. Three months, by his estimate. Before Bucky can ask again, the King utters a phrase in Wakandan and the small group of scientists quietly leave the room. They must have been the voices he heard earlier.

 

"How are you feeling, Sargent Barnes?"

 

"About the same as I usually do waking up from cryo. Much nicer here though."

 

The King chuckled a little but Bucky's words barely got a reaction from Stark, who's still staring over his shoulder.

 

"I am pleased to hear that. Now, in answer to your questions: you are awake because we need to speak with you." With those words, the King gestures to himself and Stark. "And as for what is happening, we have a way we think could remove Hydra's control over you."

 

"What? I didn't think there was anything just yet... 's why I went back into cryo. How long was I gone? It didn't feel that long."

 

"You have been asleep, or 'gone' for seven months. In that time, the International Supreme Court and United Nations have declared you innocent of the charges you were facing under Hydra's control. Mr Stark and Ms Romanov presented evidence gathered from Hydra's paper records that prove the mind control and brainwashing were sufficient to render you incapable of making your own choices. You have been declared a prisoner of war and Mr Stark and Ms Potts have run a very successful PR campaign that has garnered you much sympathy and support from the public. You will no doubt face repercussions for the damage and injury you caused in Romania and Germany, however.

 

"Mr Stark has also very generously modified a piece of his existing technology to better suit your needs. Alongside that he, myself and some of Wakanda's best biomechanical specialists have developed you a new arm."

 

"Oh..." Seven months? He'd been a little off in his estimate. All that had happened in such a short time.

 

"Are you alright, Sargent Barnes?"

 

"Yeah, just processing. It's a lot..."

 

He wasn't going to be locked up for what Hydra made him do. Romania and Germany, yeah that made sense. He'd take any punishment for that. He made the decision to fight and run and it was his decisions that had hurt people. Fear wasn't an excuse.

 

Stark though, he'd killed the man's parents and he'd cleared his name, helped make him a new arm and found a way to help remove Hydra from his brain. All from a man who wouldn't look at him and spoken exactly one word to him.

 

"Take your time, Sargent Barnes."

 

\-----

 

Three days later, Bucky sat on the floor of the lounge that the King had graciously given them to use. 'Them' being himself and Stark. Bucky had to admit that he didn't completely trust Stark, not after what he'd heard about him from Steve and his team. The man had grown up in the lap of luxury, was volatile, self-obsessed and uncaring. He was extravagant and rude and never admitted when he'd done wrong.

 

But he needed the man's help with B.A.R.F. and Stark seriously needed a hand renaming the dam thing. So here he was, sitting on the floor panting as he dragged his mind into the present.

 

"That was, that was an improvement. Right? Honestly I need an indicator here ‘cause I'm getting my arse kicked by holographic Hydra agents and it sucks." Bucky looked up to where Stark was fiddling with the glasses. The other man was talking to him, barely. He had been nearly silent after he explained how the stupid glasses worked and how this was going to go. Bucky had to admit Stark and the King had come up with a good plan.

 

Hydra had created a sequence of words that, when said in the right language and order, activated the compliant soldier state brainwashed into him. The trick then, was going to be removing the association he had with the words. They'd start with the first word, then carry on through the list. If that didn't work they'd focus on any word in the list and just do their best to break the sequence.

 

“Желантие”

 

So far, it was not going well.

 

\---

 

Day 6

“Ржавый”

 

“I think I’m gonna puke… fuck.”

 

\---

 

Day 11

“Семнадцать”

 

“That sick fuck! If he wasn’t already dead I’d like to rub him up and down a cheese grater; see how _he_ likes having his skin peeled off.”

 

\---

Day 13

“Рассвет”

 

“Turn the lights up turn the lights up PLEASE TURN THE LIGHTS UP!”

 

\---

Day 15

“Печь”

 

“Fuck.”

 

\---

Day 18

“Девять”

 

“The redhead on your side at the airport, was that, was that _her!?_ ”

 

\---

Day 19

“Добосердечный”

 

“Bucket please.”

 

\---

Day 22

“Возващение на родино”

 

“… my only escape attempt. Zola had a ‘homecoming’ party for me. Pretty sure that’s what ‘furnace’ was.”

 

\---

Day 26

“Один”

 

“Yeah, that… nope I’m gonna puke.”

 

\---

Day 29

“Груъзовой вагон”

 

“I’d rather go back into cryo than face that one again.”

 

\---

 

"Do you want a break?"

 

After four weeks, Bucky was beginning to think maybe they should take a break permanently. Fuck, even cryo was better than the emotional hell he was forcing himself through.

 

"нет, I'm good. Could we try a word again though? I have an idea that just might work."

 

"Alright. Which one?"

 

"Fourth one?"

 

Wordlessly, Stark put the glasses on the table nearby and tapped a few commands into a tablet. Bucky dragged himself up off the floor, wobbling as he overcompensated for the lack of arm. He had refused the King's offers of the replacement until he'd dealt with the words. No sense in arming him then asking him to go against brainwashing.

 

Taking a breath, he put the glasses on and looked up at Stark.

 

"Ready."

 

"Рассвет."

 

There was a buzz and then Bucky was gone.

 

[ _It was dark. It had always been dark. Had it? If there was dark there must have been light at some point. Light shining on blonde strands... He wriggled as best he could and tried to get the blood moving in the limbs, to maintain proper functionality. It was important to be functional - wait no, that's what they said, his handlers. Handlers? He couldn't remember them. It couldn't hear anything either. Someone had blinded it, stuffed the ears with earplugs. It would have hurt if the asset was human. No, it was human. He was human. Wasn't it? He'd tried screaming, but its voice had long since failed and nothing had happened. Maybe it wasn't real._

It was always a lucky dip as to what memory was associated with a word. But just like the first time this was as black as black could be. Standing, Bucky carefully stretched out his arm to feel for anything. There, a wall.

 

The only time Bucky could think of that he'd been in a room as dark as this was in the later phases of Hydra's brainwashing. Somewhere in the tiny, darkened room was the memory of his past self. Past Him was blind, deaf, wrapped in a full body straight jacket and probably pretty close to becoming the Winter Soldier. Better tread carefully.

 

Bucky reached out a foot and stepped further forward towards a faint rustling. His boot connected with something soft and the rustle froze.

 

_There's a change in the air current. Maybe it was its handler. Maybe it required maintenance? It hoped it wasn't punishment, but tools can't hope, so it quickly stopped that._

 

There. Carefully, Bucky leaned down and felt around for Past Him. Finding the other Him's leg, he sat down and took a guess at where a shoulder should be and found it first try. The arm beneath his hand was hard, but only with muscle and he slid his own hand up till he reached Past Him's right ear. Gently, Bucky removed the earplug before reaching around and removing the other. Past Him hadn't made a sound, but was trembling sharply under Bucky's hand. Quietly, he started to talk as he began working on the buckles of the straight jacket.

 

"Can you hear me? Can you speak?" All he got was a quiet whimper. If he was that far gone, maybe he'd better do the talking.

 

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, and your friends call you Bucky. You're a person, and you are not an asset or a weapon. You fought in World War Two and you fell off a train trying to help your friend Steve. You... you're me. I'm you, I mean. I'm proof that you're a person and you have choice. You don't need to obey anyone's orders if you don't want to. You are nobody's to control. Do you understand me?"

 

_The asset whimpered again. There was someone next to it, a man. He had given back the sound and given the asset back the privilege of movement. No, it wasn't the asset, it was a man. James Buchanan Barnes and it was a he, not a weapon. That was what the man said. The man spoke quietly to him but it was still loud in its, his ears._

_The man named James felt a hand in its hair and he flinched away. Touch was bad. Touch was for punishment. He hadn't been touched since it was put in the dark and it felt like it had been a long time. The hand came back and stroked his hair. It felt good. The man, James, leaned into it and whimpered again. It felt so good, the hand in his hair and he would listen to the man if it meant the man would keep petting him._

_"You had four sisters and your Mama growing up. You still enjoy dancing but haven't found a partner yet. You wanted to be an engineer and you still get work as a mechanic when you're able to."_

_James leaned further into the other man, listening intently. He might be required to recall this later. The man didn't punish him for his clinginess, instead digging his fingers in and massaging his scalp._

_"Something only we would know… You - you always liked both dames and fellas, didn’t even tell Steve that. You really like plums. Not sure when that happened but not gonna complain. Could never afford them growing up."_

_Here, the man paused and James cautiously bent to rest his head on the other him's shoulder. The man's words were familiar to it, like he had read it somewhere a long time ago. The man did not punish him and James Buchanan Barnes, who was called Bucky by his friends, relaxed and sighed. The body was still shivering slightly even though he wasn't cold. He wasn't 100% functional but it was okay, the man wouldn't hurt him._

 

"Daybreak, рассвет, I think I understand this one... I think you'll be alright."]

 

\----

 

Bucky blinked at the brightness and squinted, his head aching slightly. The room was so white and sharp on his eyes after the memory of the dark room. The B.A.R.F. glasses sat in his lap and he blinked some more. He hadn't realised he'd taken them off.

 

Shit, Stark was in the room the whole time. He'd heard Bucky's confessions, his memories. Oh hell, Steve had warned him and he'd still gone and opened his mouth. Suddenly his new plan didn’t seem so clever now he wasn’t caught in the moment. Slowly, he looked up at the other man.

 

Stark was holding out a glass of water. In fact, he was making eye contact. Bucky took the glass and sipped at it, trying to figure out where to go from here.

 

"So, they used sensory deprivation."

 

"Yeah."

 

"Yeah, that would mess with you."

 

Afterwards, he wanted to blame it on emotional exhaustion and feeling exposed. And none of that helped. But the straw that had broken the camel's back was Stark sounded empathetic. Like he had any idea what Bucky had been through.

 

"They kept me locked in that room for who knows how fucking long. Took me out, I'd been stuck in there with their brainwashing and no human contact. I wanted to please, I didn't want to go back in the room so I did whatever the fuck I had to, to not go back into the dark. Yeah that messes with you. What would _you_ know about it?"

 

Stark just looked at him, the hint of expression on his face gone, just like the uncaring man he'd been told about.

 

"I grew up with a father who was obsessed with a dead man. He was barely home and when he was, I was constantly a disappointment. I did whatever I could for my father's attention and all he did was compare me to his best buddy, Captain America." Stark hopped off the table he'd been sitting on and headed towards the door. Not looking back, he called to the stunned soldier, "See you tomorrow if you want."

 

What the hell was that?

 

\----

 

He shouldn't have asked, of course Barnes wouldn't want to talk about it. Tony sighed and slumped further into the pile of blankets he'd dragged onto to couch. T'Challa had very generously set him up with a room for his stay in Wakanda, and had given him the most amazing blankets.

 

Not that he'd ever admit it, but Tony loved building blanket nests and snuggling down. The only people who knew were Rhodey, Pepper and Natasha. They’d come a long way since Natalie Rushman. The spy wasn't the cuddliest of people but she'd happily sit and watch Archer with him on nights they couldn't sleep. If he was really lucky, she'd lend him her giant fluffy blue blanket, wrap it around herself and cover him with the rest. It was a safety thing, feeling snug and warm against the world. Tony wasn't quite sure where she was now; but airport or no airport, he hoped she was safe.

 

Barnes though, Tony had felt they'd made real progress today. Until his faux pas at the end. All Barnes needed and wanted was to get the trigger words out of his head and then he'd be done with Tony. He understood that. First he'd tried to kill the man, then he'd put him in a position where he had to emotionally bare himself repeatedly. And then there was the fact that Tony was Tony. Why would he want to talk to him anymore than he had to?

 

He'd get through this. He'd help Barnes with his head, give him his arm, and then he'd go back to his tower. Back to FRIDAY and... yeah. Back to FRIDAY.

 

Tony grabbed his tablet and snuggled further into his nest. He had work to do and moping wasn't going to help.

 

\----

 

The next day, Bucky waited in the lounge for Stark to show up. He wasn't sure if the other man would after his outburst yesterday but he was hopeful. The former assassin sat on the table at the edge of the room, swinging his legs back and forth.

 

Even after four weeks he still didn't know much about Stark asides from what he'd been told by Steve and his team. He knew more about Howard from the museum exhibit for Pete’s sake. But in the short time he'd known the man, Stark had started to confuse him more and more. In his head, Bucky began writing a list.

 

**_Tony Stark:_ **

  * __Self-obsessed: little evidence to support, has taken a lot of his time to help me legally and with stupid glasses. Barely speaks and when he does, it's not about him__


  * _Names things stupidly: B.A.R.F. Need I say more?_


  * _Uncaring: possibly, although first point suggests otherwise. He would be unlikely to help if he didn't care, but he also doesn't want to be here either. More evidence required_


  * _Rude: possibly, Stark is not blatantly rude but he is not nice either. More evidence required_


  * _Volatile: he lashed out at me and Steve in Siberia, snapped yesterday when verbally provoked. Counterargument, was emotionally compromised by viewing parents' deaths and discovering Steve had apparently hidden truth from him. Yesterday appeared to be an emotional shutdown rather than a personal attack after possibly trying to connect with me. Examples are justifiable, more evidence required_


  * _Doesn't admit when he's wrong: no evidence to currently support either way. Is it worth starting an argument with him to gather evidence?_


  * _Masochist: willingly sits in a room with the man who murdered his parents and tries to help him. Evidence suggests very likely_



 

 

Bucky was interrupted from his thoughts when the man in question walked into the room. Like the previous days, he was in a loose fitting band t-shirt and tidy jeans. His hair was tidy(ish) and he had a cup of coffee snug in his hands. Without making eye contact, Stark wandered in, sat on the table across the room from him and picked up his tablet.

 

"How do you want to start today?" Bucky swung his legs harder and frowned.

 

"I thought maybe we could try the whole sequence and see if it's any easier to fight? I just, yesterday, I think we made progress and I wanna see if I have." It's a risk and he knows it, handing the reigns of the Soldier to Stark.

 

"You want me to use the words?" Shit. For the second time since meeting him, Stark has made eye contact. Bucky barely managed to supress a shiver. Stark's eyes are a warm amber brown, and Bucky feels stunned sitting there with Stark's full attention and intellect directed at him. He'd look away if he could.

 

"Barnes?" Bucky blinks and realises Stark had asked a question.

 

"Yeah, ah, I want you to use the words. If you're okay with it that is."

 

Stark looked at him with a weird expression on his face, like he couldn't figure out if Bucky was kidding or not. There was no fear in amongst it all though. He wasn't afraid Bucky'd snap and kill everyone around him. Confident or suicidal, add it to the list.

 

"Are you sure? I can go get T'Challa if you want to try it." Bucky shakes his head. The words are risky in themselves, but the real risky bit here is having Stark say them. If Steve was here, he wouldn't let him do this, wouldn't let Stark say the words. But what Steve's told him about Stark isn't adding up so far. What better way to test the man?

 

"No, I want you to say them." Bucky stopped swinging his legs and looked Stark in the eyes again. "I trust you."

 

"No, you don't."

 

Caught.

 

"Okay, no I don't trust you. But I've trusted you with everything so far, all my memories. And," Bucky ducked his head, "I'd like to trust you more."

 

Stark regarded him from across the room, coffee in his right hand. His left was empty as per usual. For a solid two minutes Stark stared and Bucky played with the hem of his shirt, neither of them spoke.

 

"You actually mean that." His words were quiet but Bucky's had exceptional hearing since his first stint with Hydra. He stood and looked up again. Hell, Stark's eyes were intense.

 

"Okay. Sure. Right yes, let's just... words okay. Ready?"

 

Longing.

 

Rusted.

 

Bucky can feel the compliant state of the asset wash over him, and he goes with it. He hadn't had much success with either word and he can feel it.

 

Seventeen.

 

All the warmth is vacuumed from his body and shadows of panic fill the space. He's going under, he's going to drown, he's-

 

Daybreak.

 

-in control. Bucky perked his head up and looked around, listening as Stark carried on reciting the list. The words had a bit of pull, but with a link in the sequence broken the rest weren't enough.

 

"Soldier, stand on one leg and cross your eyes."

 

"No." No. Bucky laughed, a proper laugh and grinned at Stark. They'd done it, the words didn't work. And Stark was gazing back at him, looking almost... proud? He didn't know, he didn't care. "No, I won't."

 

Without thinking, he grabbed Stark and hugged him with his remaining arm. He lifted the other man off the table and spun him around. They'd done it, he was free! Suck it, Hydra!

 

A polite cough reminded him of Stark. He still had his arm around his waist, holding Stark close against him. And standing there looking down at the other man, he realised just how small Stark was. Compared to Bucky's well-built 5'10", Stark was a mere 5'7", lean and muscled.

 

"We did it." Bucky breathed, still grinning wildly. Stark however shook his head.

 

"No, you did it. I just gave you the tools to work with. Now, if you don't mind," Stark pressed his hands against Bucky's shoulders, "I don't do touching."

 

Reluctantly, Bucky let go and stepped back. And where did that feeling come from? Squashing it he focused on Stark again. Those eyes were back on him, forcing Bucky to blink.

 

"Sorry, sorry. Just excited ya know? I'm free! They can't control me anymore."

 

"Good, you're making progress. If you want, we can go through the rest of the list and see if you can break any of the others. Otherwise I'll let T'Challa know and he'll talk to you about seeing a therapist to work through the rest of Hydra's crap. Your choice." With that, Stark sat back down on the table and took a mouthful of coffee.

 

Still high on adrenaline and success, Bucky laughed and spun around to look at Stark. The man was sitting there calmly drinking coffee, how could he just be sitting there?

 

"Fuck, I don't know. Probably start with therapy and then see what I can do with the rest of the words, just in case." At that, Stark nodded. He reached for his tablet with a shaky left hand, before changing his mind and picking it up with his right. He tapped away for a minute before speaking again.

 

"I've told King Fluffy the good news, and he says he'll get back to you in the next couple of days about a therapist. Go celebrate, do something fun now that you aren't a walking sad sack of trigger words."

 

With that, Stark tucked his tablet under his arm. Empty coffee cup in hand he headed for the door.

 

"What about you? What are you going to do now?"

 

"Board elections are coming up at SI and Pepper's gonna be up to her ears in sharks. If I get these reports done now she shouldn't be under as much strain considering I'm not going to be there to help."

 

More evidence for the list, Bucky thinks.

 

 


	2. Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky meets Steve and Rhodey is wise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My laptop is not a happy camper at the moment so I can't format this as well as I'd like right now sorry lovelies. Hope everyone's having a good start to the year!

T'Challa won't be able to fit Bucky in for a meeting until later in the week, but Princess Shuri visits him that night to tell Bucky that he's been cleared to wander around the compound more. Until now, he'd been restricted to his room, the lounge he worked in with Stark, and a small area of jungle that he'd taken to exploring.

 

Now, he could wander further through the jungle and to the compound that Steve was living in. The track was narrow and seemed to have been designed to be as discrete as possible. If he was careful, maybe he could keep the path (and thus his quarters) secret. Just till he got himself a bit more settled. Steve would want to know how he was getting to and from their compound though. Screw it, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

 

Bucky didn't visit that night, instead choosing to curl up on his couch with a small jug of hot chocolate (he could imagine his mama would be spinning in her grave at his lack of table manners) and watch a movie. It was quiet, kinda underwhelming considering the progress he'd made today. In the morning, he could go and visit Steve and the arsehole with the wings, whatever his name was, and tell him the good news. This is what Steve had wanted. His best friend free from Hydra's control.

 

\---

 

Tony knew he was an anxious mess. He knew he overthought things till he lost the idea in the chaos that was his head. But was it worth ringing Rhodey or Pepper over this? The 'this' in question was that he was starting to relate a little to a certain parent-murdering arsehole supersoldier, and that he'd actually felt proud of Barnes today. He'd spent four weeks around the man although it felt like longer, seeing Barnes' worst memories and nightmares projected into the room. It took its toll.

 

He and Pepper had been split for eight months now and while they were on good terms professionally, they were only just starting to get back to what they had before he ruined them romantically. It'd be rude to dump this on her right now, better call Rhodey.

 

He laid there in bed with his phone sitting by his ear, waiting for his friend to pick up.

 

"Tony? What is it? Everything okay?" And there was his platypus, jumping to check on him and if needed, back him against a problem.

 

"Everything's fine, calm down Rhodey-bear. Well, everything's not fine but it's not the end of the world or anything which is good but it feels like it and fuck I don't know there's a problem I think it's a problem-"

 

"Woah woah woah, Tones, chill. Tell me what is going on."

 

"Right, okay, it's... I'mstartingtoempathisewithBarnesandnothatehimasmuchasIshould."

 

"In English."

 

"I'm starting to empathise with Barnes and not hate him as much as I probably should." Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. On the other end of the line, Rhodey sighed.

 

"I am not awake enough for this." Shit, what time was it in New York? He'd woken Rhodey up just to ask him to deal with his shit again.

 

"So, what has happened for you to be able to relate with Barnes in the space of four weeks?"

 

"You know how I agreed to Tom Jones' request to use B.A.R.F. to help Barnes with the trigger words? Yeah, I've sat there every day for four weeks watching what Hydra did to him. We had breakthrough the other day but fuck, Rhodey. They used sensory deprivation on him. They locked him in a dark room and when they let him out, he told me, he told me he just wanted to please, he did anything not to have to go back into that room, for their approval. Fucking hell, they did worse to him obviously, but that just..."

 

"Tony," Rhodey's voice is gentle, "it's alright. I understand. It's about Howard isn't it?"

 

Thank Tesla for James Rhodes.

 

"Yeah," Tony let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, "I know that Howard had nothing on Hydra but it's, you know."

 

"No, I get it, it makes sense in a way. I think I'd be more worried if you couldn't see that similarity between the pair of you. And the hating him thing? You are the one who decides how much hate is the right amount of hate."

 

"When did you get so wise?"

 

"Didn't you know? I have a masters in wisdom from MIT."

 

Tony could hear Rhodey moving around in bed, and debated telling him that he'd gone so far as to tell Barnes a bit about Howard. No, better to leave that for another time. He'd already filled his quota of emotional talks for the next month.

 

Thankfully, Rhodey seemed to understand. The pair said their goodbyes and Tony stopped fighting sleep. Let the nightmares come, couldn't be much worse than whatever fresh hell he was on a crash course with.

 

\---

 

At nine o'clock the next morning, Bucky found himself stalling. He had done everything he reasonably could to make getting ready as long as possible and had run out of ideas. Why was he this...? Shaking his head, he scowled. Emotions. Putting a name to them could still be a problem sometimes. He wanted to see Steve, but at the same time he was... worried? Nervous? Apprehensive? Fuck it, he had to face Steve at some point.

 

It's hot in Wakanda, Bucky's not sure they know what cold is, but he's still in a long sleeve shirt. The remains of his left arm poke out from where he cut the sleeve off. No use in having it flapping around and annoying him all day. Bonus points for cutting the sleeve off, it can’t get caught in the thick jungle as he makes his way to Steve’s compound.

 

The compound was large, not oversized but he could tell it was made for many. Glass windows stretched floor to ceiling, letting those inside gaze out at the Wakandan jungle. In his head, the part of him that was still the soldier – a part he wasn’t sure he even wanted gone – questioned whether the panes were strengthened or bulletproof.

 

Quietly, Bucky slipped inside the side entrance. The walls were white and he didn’t like it. It gave the place such a clinical feel, and very unlived in. Kinda made him feel like drawing on the walls actually. That much blank white space was a huge temptation but he was a better guest than that.

 

After a short time wandering, people’s voices came into earshot. Bucky flinched at a loud laugh and pressed himself against the wall. What the hell was his problem? Someone was fucking laughing and his heartrate was through the roof. He closed his eyes, breathed through his diaphragm. He could hear a man in his head laughing, laughing as Bucky tried to crawl away on busted kneecaps and a forearm peeled of skin.

 

Breathe in.

 

Breathe out.

 

Breathe in.

 

Breathe out.

 

When he opened his eyes he was still in the hallway. The voices were still in the other room but the laughter had stopped. Welp, time to visit Steve.

 

\---

 

Tony fired off the last of the documents Pepper needed and sat back with a groan. There, done. Now he could either check up on his R&D department and their progress with the new range of prosthetics SI was developing, or he could catch up on his own projects. Namely, a new arm for Barnes the Arsehole. T’Challa (that man had a mind to rival his own) and his engineers had already produced a prototype replacement but Tony’s natural competitive streak couldn’t help but run through designs and possibilities until he was forced to put them to paper then hologram. He didn’t have a lab here in Wakanda but he could certainly get started. He should have started sooner.

 

He stood up and stretched, heading to the comfortable couch by the window and rubbing his chest with his right hand.  His left was improving ever so slowly but he didn’t hold out much hope. He felt like he’d gone back to 2008 and just crawled out of the wreckage of his first suit. He kind of had in some ways, he’d just traded sand for ice. The arc reactor was even back.

 

He really didn’t want to think about that one.

 

He picked up his tablet (right handed, just like Barnes since he’d blown his arm off) and picked up where he’d left off. He hadn’t been given access to Barnes’ medical records and he hadn’t hacked them either – choosing to go off what he saw and what he knew from Nat’s file dump.

 

The shoulder was mounted onto Barnes via the original socket, his spine and ribs in a truly barbaric way. Not a lot Tony could do about that - not without major surgery that Tony would put good money on Barnes refusing. Plus, squishy bits weren't his forté.

 

The shoulder joint and arm itself he could certainly work on. First priority was weight reduction. A blind man running for his life couldn't have missed the way Barnes was trying to compensate for the mass of metal when he walked; without the arm he could see just how much he was used to compensating. Next issue would be sensors and how to attach it humanely.

 

He settled further onto the couch. Enough moping about his own problems, time to get to work.

 

\---

 

"Bucky?"

 

"Hey Steve."

 

Next thing he knew, he had a muscle-bound blond clinging to him like he was an escaping breeze. Bucky swallowed and patted his friend on the back. Fuck, if Stark hadn't helped him get rid of his triggers the other soldier would be face down on the ground minus his throat right now. Pretty sure he'd done that once.

 

The others in the room had gone quiet at his entrance and he could see them staring. Arsehole With Wings was sitting on a couch next to the archer, one looking suspicious and the other like he was about to challenge him to a rematch. The woman with freaky red powers - was she familiar from somewhere? -sat on a counter top silently. Fanboy was catching flies with his mouth, no surprises. Three exits, none guarded, no weapons in sight or concealed. It was a start.

 

"What are you doing out of cryo? Why did T'Challa wake you up, has he found a cure?" Steve finally let go and stood back, keeping his hands firmly on Bucky's shoulders. The man was grinning like anything.

 

"Yeah, he found something. Been working on it lately." He kept his words deliberately vague. Stark's help was instrumental but he wasn't going to give the engineer's presence away on a whim. What he knew of Steve Rogers said he'd go off half-cocked at the idea of Stark being near him. Plus, he kinda wanted to keep Stark to himself while he tried to figure the man out. "Can I talk to you in private?"

 

"Of course." Still keeping a hand on Bucky, Steve turned to face the silent audience, "give us a minute, just gonna catch up with Buck."

 

God, that grin was still on his face, even as he led Bucky to a room further down the hall. Inside, Steve closed the door and ushered him to sit on the bed.

 

"Do you mind leaving the door open?" Bucky scuffed his shoes on the carpet, struggling to meet his friend's eyes. Unarmed, combat trained.

 

Threat.

 

Exits: one, blocked.

 

"How come? I thought you wanted to speak privately?" Steve's brow furrowed in confusion.

 

"I don't like not having an exit route."

 

"Buck, you're safe here. You've got me, and everyone else wants to protect you and get to know you."

 

"I'll talk once the door is open.”

 

The threat was reluctant to unblock exit. Threat – Steve – should be treated with respect. However he wanted that door open and didn’t the Steve in his memory give him that respect of choice and understanding?

 

After a moment his friend reopened the door before sitting across from him in a chair. Steve was practically bouncing, questions lined up on his tongue and eager to start.

 

"How long have you been awake? Won’t lie, I'm kinda disappointed T'Challa didn't tell me what he was doing. I could have been there for you when you woke up."

 

Haaa yeah of course. That would have gone down a treat, Steve and Stark in the same room as each other. Fuck, there was going to be hell to pay when Steve found out Stark was the one who helped with his head. Speaking of which...

 

"Just over a month, and I'm sure he had his reasons. Good news though."

 

"Yeah?"

 

“My trigger words don't work. No one can control me with them anymore."

 

For the second time that day, Bucky found himself squished tight in a hug he wasn’t sure he wanted but it was Steve so he did want it, right?

 

“Fuck, you’re kidding me. You’re free? You’re safe? You’re back to your old self again?”

 

“I guess so.” Never mind he didn’t remember his old self, or only the really significant details before Hydra. “I’ve still got a lot of stuff to work through, what’s the word… therapy?”

 

“Of course, yeah. You know, Sam’s a counsellor, worked with vets with PTSD. Maybe you could-”

 

“нет.”

 

“Buck?” There’s concern in Steve’s eyes, a little bit of fear too. Good. He should be afraid of him. “Are you okay? It’s not the soldier is it?”

 

“нет,” he blinks, “I mean no.”

 

“Then why…” Steve made a complicated hand gesture, before looking expectantly at Bucky.

 

“No, it’s not the soldier. I don’t want to talk to Sam and you shouldn’t expect him to play shrink for me just ‘cause he’s your friend. I’ve already talked to the Princess and King about it, they’re gonna help find someone for me.”

 

Bucky dropped his gaze to his feet. You don’t speak against a handler, he knew that. But this was Steve. He could speak against Steve, right? And expecting the Arsehole With Wings – Sam apparently – to be the one to deal with his shit just cause that used to be his job and was standing in the next room was a dick move.

 

Still, better safe than sorry.

 

“That’s not- Buck, that’s not why I’d be asking him. Sam’s good at his job. He could help you.”

 

 

The silence sat like white cryo fog between them, Bucky refused to make eye contact with his handler. Steve. Whatever. Eventually Steve got back to his line of questioning.

 

“How did you get rid of the programming anyway? T’Challa didn’t mention anything about having found something.”

 

“It was complicated. Took some time.”

 

“Yeah? How did it work?”

 

“Don’t really know. Helped me separate out the words from the associated brainwashing if y’wanna be technical about it. Just glad to have ‘em out of my head.”

 

“Does that mean you’re going to get a new arm now?”

 

“Not sure yet.”

 

Bucky was saved from any further questioning by someone calling from back in the common room.

 

“Hey Steve! Get in here and have a look at this!”

 

“What is it Clint?” Steve asked as the pair made their way back to the lounge.

 

“Shush,” the Archer Guy murmured, “watch this.”

 

Both soldiers directed their attention to the TV mounted on the lounge wall. The news was on, and an American anchorwoman was speaking in front of a courthouse.

 

_“Earlier today, Former Secretary of State, General Thadeus Ross, was convicted on all charges. Notably, these charges include Human Rights violations against Doctor Robert Bruce Banner – formerly of the Avengers and known to most as the Hulk – which are linked to charges of conspiracy, endangerment, and abuse of power. General Ross is also likely to lose his military ranking as further reports of his actions while involved with the Sokovia Accords lead many to believe he is unfit to hold such a rank._

_Said reports also raise questions about the actions of the now missing Avengers. It has been confirmed by United Nations officials that Captain Steve Rogers, Sargent Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff and ex-convict Scott Lang are all classified as fugitives. All sightings should be reported to the number on the bottom of your screens and care should be taken as all are considered armed and dangerous. The United Nations is still requesting information as to the whereabouts of Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, after her disappearance post-battle in Germany._

_Sargent James Barnes has been cleared of all charges associated with his time spent under Hydra’s control as the Winter Soldier. Many however are determined to see Sargent Barnes face charges for his role in the events of Leipzig Airport, Germany, and Bucharest, Romania. So far, his lawyers refuse to give a statement regarding the Sargent’s future intentions. We have also been unable to contact the missing Avengers or any associated representatives to clarify whether they will challenge the charges held against them by civilians and the governments of Sokovia, Nigeria, Germany, Romania, and Stark Industries._

The anchor woman carries on, but Bucky doesn’t stay to listen to Steve’s shouts of denial or his team’s complaints. No one notices him leave and he doesn’t announce his departure.

 

\---

 

Back home, Bucky made a sandwich and sat down on his front doorstep to enjoy the sun. Steve’s team were facing charges and not just for helping him. He hadn’t kept up with the details surrounding them while he was on the run and making himself a home but things seemed to have been going wrong for a while. He remembered Sokovia, something in the back of his mind stirred at the mention of the place. The Avengers had barged in, and the city had fallen from the sky. There were no doubt more people like Zemo out there, not just from Sokovia. They wanted justice for their homes and families and Bucky couldn’t blame them.

 

What really interested him though was the mention of his lawyers. He obviously hadn’t hired a lawyer, maybe Steve? He was very invested in protecting his friend. But Steve had zero resources right now and surely would have told him. No, the King or Stark were more likely and able to organise such a thing. Hadn’t T’Challa mentioned it when they brought him out of cryo, that he was clear of some charges? Might have, he’d better check. He often forgot things in the immediate wake of cryo.

 

On that note, he forgot to say goodbye to Steve. He should have done it before he left, now Steve will be upset with him. Not a lot he can do now unless he wants to go back to the other compound and face the man and it was hard enough this morning. No, he’d enjoy his afternoon and his sandwich. Maybe make a note that he really liked Wakandan bread.

 

Tomorrow was another day. He could talk to Steve after he’d met his psychiatrist, maybe.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is tagged as not team cap friendly and this chapter should give a good indication of how things are in this universe. There won't be any bashing, but the team (especially Steve) are particularly unthinking, naïve and obtuse in regards to a lot of matters.
> 
> I'm also tempted to name the chapters - I know that helps me keep track of where I'm in a fic - anyone keen?


	3. Bad Days, Books and Brunettes (that can surprisingly read Russian)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a Bad Day, a surprise in the library, and the author struggles not to fill the chapter title with as many words that start with B as possible because at heart she likes writing crack far more than she lets on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A trigger warning in this chapter for Bucky having a bad day with depression. I'll put more details in the end notes but if this is a Thing for you, feel free to skip it
> 
> I would also like to vaguely dedicate this chapter to my now-retired psychiatrist, who was very short and was the most no-nonsense mental health specialist I have ever spoken to, and one of the people I have the most respect for - considering the me that walked into her office was not happy to be there and still took me on as a patient anyway. Thank you.

Bucky pottered around the next few days, wandering where he was allowed and trying to find something to keep himself occupied. Wakanda was amazing, the country was beautiful and all of the (very few) people he’d met were lovely. However, home was a long way away.

He mentioned it the first time he’d met his psychiatrist – a tiny woman with more qualifications than he had fingers and who took no prisoners – the feeling of homesickness that was worrying at his stomach. She’d been pleased he could label that emotion without help, and he warmed up to her quickly after that first session. One problem: it gave him trouble when she asked him where “home” was exactly.

 

_“Well, I’m from New York but I spent a long, long time in Russia. Mostly Siberia and Москва – sorry, Moscow. Then I was taken back to the States for a bit, and after getting away from Hydra I travelled a lot. Tried to keep under the radar. Ended up in Bucharest, Romania, for about six months maybe? Then Steve happened and now I live here.”_

_“So where is home then, Bucky?”_

_“New York, right?” Her shoulders didn’t drop and she didn’t look away._

_“Is that an answer or a question?”_

_Caught._

_“It’s supposed to be New York, I was born there; that’s where Bucky Barnes is from.”_

_“You say that like Bucky Barnes is someone else.”_

_“I don’t want to talk about that.”_

_“Alright, that was a bit much for a first session. If you want to leave you can, however I’m quite interested as to where you consider home to be.”_

 

\---------

 

Today was a bad day. Bucky lay in bed, curtains still drawn and shrowding the room in a dim light. His body ached, joints sore like he had a fever and his left shoulder – о боже…

He could get up, go to the bathroom where T’Challa had left him a medical kit that his scientists thought would work on his enhanced body. There were painkillers in there, a gel he could rub along the seam of scar tissue and metal. But it wouldn’t help the dull ache of his ribs with every inward breath. Lift the heaviness from his bones. He could. But he _can’t._

Food. He should get up and feed himself. The serum had ramped up his metabolism. Food was needed. He should feed himself. Wasn’t hungry though. _Didn’t deserve it._

How could he just be lying here? He was waste. He’d been through worse as the Asset and now he couldn’t get out of bed.

The shadows wandered and stretched. Afternoon, his mind supplied. Felt like twenty minutes. Felt like another seventy years. If cryo’s timelessness was a freedom, this was a torture. He blinked and stared at the ceiling, which hadn’t changed in the last however many hours. What had he been thinking about, what…

He pulled a deep breath into his lungs and dragged his hand up to rub at the resulting ache. Where did this pain even come from? Was it a side effect of Stark’s tech? Couldn’t be, the pain predated settling in Romania. Was it even real? He wasn’t injured or sick so why was his body malfunctioning? He’d been doing so well, he’d just gotten his mind back; so why was he feeling so _awful?_

It took ten minutes to make the decision to get up, and another fifteen to get his feet on the floor. Shower. Food. Couch. Maybe text his psychiatrist and let her know what was going on. The warm water did little to ease the aching, and time disappeared again as he dragged clothes onto his body. There was milk and cereal in the kitchen so he found a bowl and settled gingerly onto the couch. His book was on the floor below where he’s left off the other day. Maybe he could have a read.

A knock on his front door pulled his focus from his cereal. His instincts trudged through the treacle of his brain, but unable to bring urgency. No one, besides the King, Princess and likely their gauds, knew where he was. But they had no reason to visit without warning. Maybe he should open the door and check. By the time he reached the door, the visitor had knocked again. Hopefully it wasn’t Steve.

 

In the end, it turned out to be his psychiatrist. She’d been worried when he missed his appointment and decided to check up on him. One more person on the list of people who knew his location. Yet he trusted her, as best as he could, and she helped him. One look and she’d had him back on the sofa and talking. His words were slow, halting and pathetic but Doc coaxed it out of him. It wasn’t anything Stark had done to him, it was a side effect of depression. Something about depression and pain sharing neurotransmitters, he wasn’t really paying attention.

_If things were so good right now, why was he feeling like this? Well, she asked him, how did you feel after breaking the trigger sequence?  
_

_“Good, of course.”_

_“Only good?”_

_“I felt so light I could fly.” He told her._

_“And how long ago did you last feel anything like that?” and his silence told her volumes. Not even realising he was free from Hydra had felt good, just a stress-inducing nightmare._

_“You had a very big excitement the other day, Bucky, and now your body is no longer producing the chemicals that make you feel good like that, your body is crashing, albeit harder than someone normally would. Most likely cause it hasn’t experienced anything like this in a very long time and doesn’t know how to process it. Think of it like a rollercoaster – your body goes up one side and down the other and at the bottom reality bites. Like anything, this will pass. Unfortunately, it’s more a case of managing it. I don’t have anything that can magically fix it, you’re just going to have to find what helps best and keep working on the source problems. As time goes on, these episodes should become less severe and frequent.”_

It took another day and a half before Bucky was able to crawl out of bed without the ache overwhelming his cloudy mind, but he made it through. He was almost as proud of himself as his psychiatrist when he made it to his next appointment, and he was even early to boot.

 

\---------

 

Back on his feet he was in the library, searching for a book he’d begun reading before Wakanda and he wanted to finish it. The room was vast, and by the time he found the small section of books written in Russian, and then found the section of fiction, he was practically lost. The paper jungle matched the green jungle outside the large windows in many ways.

“P, p, pr, where is Pra… dammit.” Pul, gone too far. Was there something wrong with is eyes? This wasn’t the first time letters had changed around while he read them. It happened rarely enough to ignore though. Maybe he should mention it to Doc?

Bucky glanced at the shelves, checking the letters on the spines and turned around the corner of the isle, just to smack into another person.

“Shit!” The other man yelped, as Bucky bared his teeth and reached for the knife he used to have stashed on him. It was a good thing he didn’t have it anymore, or he would have had killed Stark. Probably slit his throat.

“Merde, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He stepped back out of the man’s space and ran his eyes over him. No sign of injury other than prior trauma to left arm, his mind supplied.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to startle you, I didn’t know you were in here. Sorry you’re busy I’ll just –”

“Don’t go.” Bucky blurted out. Stark turned back to face him, not making eye contact as per usual. Does he do that with everyone or just him? “Just, you,” fuck English, “you don’t have to go just because I’m here.” There, that’s the words.

Stark turned to face him properly, and if Bucky wasn’t as close as he was he would have missed the anxiety in the smaller man’s eyes.

“I didn’t think you would want me around. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable”

“I… I don’t…” fuck emotions, add that to the list. Bucky waved his hand around in the air, searching for the word. Stark stared, gaze flickering between Bucky’s shoes and the far corner of the library, waiting.

“It’s, you being around doesn’t bother me.”

Stark looked so tired that the surprise was barely visibly on his face. He certainly wasn’t the picture of good health and it took Bucky’s mind back to the list in his head. Stark hadn’t looked a whole lot better during the BARF sessions, but with fresh eyes he could see the man was looking a little gaunt, his t-shirt (what the hell is that design?) sat sadly on his frame. Bucky cast his mind back further, just able to picture the immaculately kept man he’d seen on news interviews while on the run. Considering the man was described to him as self-obsessed, you’d think he’d take better care of himself. Maybe he could take this opportunity…

“Actually, uh, could you help me find a book?”

“What? Which one?” The flash of surprise on Stark’s face is expected, but he tilts his head and focuses more on Bucky.

“‘Lords and Ladies’ by Terry Pratchett. I started reading it back home and I want to finish it.”

“You’re reading Pratchett? Really?”

“Yeah, love scifi and fantasy.”

He followed Stark back around the stack of shelves. Stark’s fingers trailed over book spines, jumped between shelves and danced over titles – the Cyrillic not slowing him in the slightest. The backs of his hands were scarred with burns and cuts and it was the first time Bucky had seen Stark make use of his left arm. It was a little slow, didn’t rise above a certain level but he was using it.

“Ah, here.” With that, Stark stretched up on his tiptoes and pulled a book from the shelf. Bucky held his hand out for it but let it drop back to his side when Stark placed the book on a patch of empty shelf between them. Bucky tilted his head, stared at Stark.

“That is the one, right? Lords and Ladies, Pratchett?”

Bucky just swallowed and nodded. Stark opened his mouth once and shut it again, no doubt trying to fill the silence. This man was confusing him, even more so than Steve. He needed to update his list.

“Why are you here?” Shit, that came out badly. Stark actually flinched at his words and Bucky back tracked as fast as he could to keep the man with him.

“I mean, what are you looking for in the… what’s the word,” he mumbled to himself, “here. Maybe I can help you find it. Return the favour.” Stark’s shoulders hunched inwards and he didn’t meet Bucky’s eyes when he answered.

“Wanted to see what they had on bio-tech and biology. Wanted to check a few things.” Bio-tech? Biology? Sounded like Stark was trying to fix himself. Bucky shuffled from foot to foot, book now in hand. Stark clearly didn’t want to talk and Bucky wasn’t sure what he could talk about. Hey, how are you, just thought I’d check in since I beat the crap out of you after you watched me kill your parents – not the best plan. At this point he was going to have to take the lead.

“I think it’s this way.” Turning on his heel he headed towards the English reference section of the library. After a moment’s pause, he heard Stark’s footsteps following him. Almost unconsciously, Bucky slowed his pace to allow for Stark’s smaller stride and the man in question soon caught up.

Once they reached the correct shelves Bucky stood off to the side to let Stark look for what he needed. The smaller man had to stretch up on tiptoe to see the top shelf and something in Bucky’s chest found it absolutely… adorable? Was that the word? Confused, he shoved the feeling to the side to deal with later. Now was prime time to analyse Stark.

Evidently Stark knew what he was looking for, quickly pulling books from shelves and tucking them under his good arm. When he had everything he wanted, he turned back to look at Bucky.

“So, I’m going to check these out. Head back to the lab, science stuff pretty boring you know so um, anything else I can do for you?” Bucky shrugged and clutched his book to his chest. If Stark wanted to leave he couldn’t stop him. Again, he killed the man’s parents and beat the daylights out of him. He wasn’t going to stick around now that he’d finished with BARF.

“Any recommendations?” Bucky blurted out. Why, why did he open his dumb mouth? Stark was nearly free of him. The other man startled again and turned to face him, eyes making contact.

“Good Omens! If you like Pratchett then try that, he co-wrote it with Neil Gaiman so it’s different to Discworld. If you don’t mind young adult stuff – seriously people need to stop shitting all over YA books – Artemis Fowl, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, the Bartimaeus trilogy actually wait no that’s not a good idea probably yeah avoid His Dark Materials too for now. Lockwood and Co is also good, I mean I don’t really know what you like but scifi and fantasy are amazing…” Stark trailed off uncertainly, Bucky must look as overwhelmed as he felt. The books were good but the reaction that Stark had! He’d never seen so much life in him before. Shit, where were his manners.

“Спасибо! I’ll, I’ll see how I go. Um, have a good, thing. Time after lunch?” Stark looked a little less unsure, but the eye contact had gone along with the life. He mumbled something unintelligible, before nearly racing off, towards the issues desk Bucky presumed. Well, he had actively talked to people so his psychiatrist would be pleased with him. And, he’d found out more about Stark and gotten book recommendations.

With his book tucked under his arm he made his own way to the desk, slowly as to give Stark some time to use it and leave.

\---------

Back in his rooms, curled up snug in his chair, Bucky went through his list on Stark.

_**Tony Stark:** _

  * _Self-obsessed: little evidence to support, has helped me legally, with the stupid glasses, and helped me find my book. Still barely speaks and when he does, it's not about him. Still need more evidence_
  * _Names things stupidly: B.A.R.F. I’m sure there’s more evidence out there_
  * _Uncaring: downgraded to unlikely, first point suggests otherwise. Still don’t think he wants me to be here. New evidence: he helped me find my book and made recommendations for more._
  * _Rude: possibly, Stark is not blatantly rude but he is not nice either. Seems to be more sarcastic and self-depreciating than anything_
  * _Volatile: he lashed out at me and Steve in Siberia, snapped when verbally provoked. Counterargument, was emotionally compromised by viewing parents' deaths and discovering Steve had apparently hidden truth from him. Went through an emotional shutdown rather than a personal attack after possibly trying to connect with me. Examples are justifiable, no new evidence yet_
  * _Doesn't admit when he's wrong: no evidence to currently support either way. Still enjoy the chances I have to talk with him too much to start an argument right now_
  * _Masochist: willingly sits in a room with the man who murdered his parents and tries to help him. Goes out of his way to help said man._
  * _Nerd: Loves scifi and fantasy and will talk a mile a minute, eyes light up like you wouldn’t believe_
  * _Can read Russian??? Must find out more. Increased threat level if he can command the soldier, possible ally?? What if the soldier was triggered somehow and I needed a handler who could take control? Could Stark be trusted – he’s had the chance to take control previously and didn’t abuse his power, Steve doesn’t trust him but his arguments aren’t making sense and he can’t speak Russian. (Wait am I seriously considering this????)_



 

He barely knew the man, but what he’d heard from Steve wasn’t really making sense. He should probably grab one of his journals, write down the list of books Stark had given him before he forgot. Then carry on with Lords and Ladies. He could deal with Stark, Steve and the differences later.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okey dokey, Bucky's bad day:  
> Bucky's bad day is what I call a rebound crash; essentially the happy chemicals wear off and the brain goes SNAFU. He experiences lethargy, struggling to care, look after himself, and loses time, along with that phantom pain that can come with depression. His psych speaks with him briefly at the end, and he pulls through to return to his normal. If you would like to read around it, read up to "Today was a bad day" and then jump to "Back on his feet"
> 
> What Bucky experiences is roughly my own experiences with severe clinical depression and anxiety. Sometimes there's a reason for a bad day, and sometimes your brain just goes FUBAR. For me, a rebound crash is when something really good happens and I feel really happy and excited and then crash once those chemicals are gone from my system. It feels fucking awful.
> 
> I did google what causes the pain and according to the University of Michigan's Depression Centre, that is the rough answer (honestly, I experienced pain for YEARS and it never made sense as to why it felt like I had fever-ache in my joints 24/7. Still doesn't truth be told). The rest of what Bucky's psych tells him during his bad day is largely advice I've picked up from various mental health workers and my own experiences. Not a doctor, not an expert on PTSD or brainwashing, just a fairly well recovered, well medicated mess. And as someone who lives with a condition that is less cure and more manage, I don't want to skip over Bucky's mental state a whole lot. I can't stand the media showing characters that are all "oh no, I have XYZ! I feel a little sad but it's okay it's only a plot device for three episodes never to be mentioned again!" It won't be hugely graphic but there will be bits and pieces that are far from pretty. Same with Tony actually.
> 
> Bucky does like writing lists more than I do though, mostly cause I forget where I put the list I was using to remember things. More of his lists might show up later if you lovelies are interested.
> 
> And now I've finished rambling, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Work is taking a lot outta me at the moment and I've got a birthday party to plan (can anyone guess how old I'll be?) so the next update won't be nearly as quick.
> 
> Love you all :)


	4. Meeting with the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finally has that meeting with T'Challa, who provides some insight into both Bucky's future and a certain engineer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I've been gone so long! Bucky had his bad day and I had my own bad couple of months after that.
> 
> Hopefully it's not all over the place but I'm happy with this chapter - beta by myself as per usual so if you see any typos sing out :)
> 
> EDIT 2-04-2018  
> I went through and tried to clean this up a little more so hopefully it helps

At long last, the day came for Bucky to have his meeting with the King. Two of the Dora Milaj led him from the library through the jungle and into the royal palace. Bucky catalogued the route, all the corridors and doors and exits, and by the time he was standing in the king’s tidy office, he’d settled any last nerves.

“Please, take a seat.” T’Challa gestured to the comfortable looking sofa that sat in front of the windows. Cautiously, Bucky sat. The room offered stunning views of the jungle and the ever-present warmth of the sun hung in the air. The Dora closed the door quietly.

“First things first: how are you feeling?”

“Today is good, the other day was not a good day. I found the library and I found the book I was reading back- back home. Thank you for letting me have access to it, your Majesty.”

“You’re welcome, Sargent Barnes. You are healing after all, what better way to rediscover the world and yourself than through literature?”

“You didn’t have to.”

“And yet I did. Now, there were a few things I wanted to discuss with you today. Firstly; your therapy and the trigger words. Mister Stark tells me that they are no longer effective and you have begun speaking to a psychiatrist. I will receive updates from Doctor Nokhanyo – nothing that will break patient confidentiality but enough to remain clear as to your progress.” Bucky nodded, the Doc had given him a run through of this when he saw her the first time. He appreciated being told by the king himself too though.

“Yes your Majesty. It’s been… good talking to her. It’s new, we- I don’t think I remember having anything like this back before I fe- before everything happened.” Bucky forced out in a rush. He could remember electrodes, and whispers of doctors and skulls – which was probably Hydra. They liked that sort of thing.

“And the trigger words? Do you think it would be a good idea to continue on trying to break them or do you think that the sequence is now weak enough that you will be able to remain uninfluenced provided you keep up the sessions with Doctor Nokhanyo?”

Bucky’s stomach rolled uncertainly. Would he be okay? He’d broken one but that was only one of ten. The others still had some kind of effect on him. Talking to Doc had already given him a taste of how confused his brain was but what if he could get his brain straightened out? Become a person again? Talking couldn’t be much worse than working through memories with BARF and the puzzle that Stark presented to him.

Fuck, decisions were awful.

“I think that, that maybe leave the BARF work and trigger words alone. Just for, for a bit. Could I just talk to the doctor for a bit?” He lowered his eyes and fiddled with the side seam of his pants.

“There’s no wrong answer, Sargent Barnes. This is your mind and body that we are talking about, you have control of your treatment unless your choices put you at risk of harming yourself or others. If you wish to hold off on the trigger words and work through things with your psychiatrist, you have that choice.”

The king caught Bucky’s eyes and smiled.

“I’m pleased you are making progress, Sargent Barnes. Now, onto the future. Do you currently have any plans?”

Bucky shook his head. He never thought he’d make it this far. Only time he’d really thought ahead was while on the run from Steve and Hydra, trying to avoid being caught. Here in Wakanda, he was planning out a day at a time and hoping that would answer what he would do tomorrow.

“I didn’t. I mean, I didn’t really think I had options.” He confessed. The king nodded, pulling up a holographic screen between them and spinning it so that Bucky can see it too.

“As you might remember, you have been cleared of any charges that you could have faced while acting as the Winter Soldier. You have been declared a prisoner of war and I have a source that tells me that you have back pay from the United States military that you could claim if you wished later in the future.” _When you are allowed to enter the world again, when you aren’t in hiding he hears._ The king continues, “That being said, you are facing charges for the damage caused in Romania and Germany. Worst case scenario, you’re looking at one second-degree murder charge, nearly two dozen aggravated assault charges, vandalism, obstruction of justice, and;” the king looked carefully at hologram in front of him, “one charge of disturbing the peace filed by an elderly woman who apparently live in the same building as you while in Romania. You’re incredibly fortunate not to be looking at worse.”

Bucky tried to pay attention but he could stop swirling the words around in his head. _One second-degree murder charge. He had killed someone. Somehow, miraculously, only one more person to add to the list. He wasn’t supposed to do that anymore. He wasn’t with Hydra or at war he had no need to kill people. Yet. All of that and he killed someone. Was it one of the strike team that came to fetch him in Romania? The one he slammed a cinderblock into? Oh fuck, what if it was one of the people at the tunnel? The man whose motorbike he stole out from under him, or was it one of the people in the cars? Was it better or worse if it was an agent or a civilian?_

_He didn’t mean to. He would go to court and face the charges. Plead guilty. He deserved it. He killed a person and it was only right that he take the punishment. He was responsible for his actions and he’d should be held accountable for it._

“Sargent Barnes? Your thoughts?” The king asked, but he looked as though he knew what was going through Bucky’s head right now without him opening his mouth. He pulled in a strangled breath.

“I understand. I’ll face the charges and I’m going to plead guilty. ‘S only right. Was my fault so I gotta take responsibility for it.”

“Well, you will be able to speak to your lawyers closer to the time. As of now, your focus is your recovery. Asides from seeing Doctor Nokhanyo and exploring the library and jungle, do you have any other hobbies or plans for now?”

A small shrug and a shake of his head.

“And the future? Do you wish to become an Avenger or an affiliate?”

Him? Become an Avenger? He’s the fucking Winter Soldier, he’s not a hero. He could try to make up for his past, maybe. That would be nice. But Bucky doesn’t want to fight anymore, he just wants something quiet, something steady and predictable and normal and _routine_. Stevie had always been a fighter but he didn’t remember using his fists unless Steve was involved. Bucky just didn’t want to hurt people anymore.

“I don’t think so, your majesty. Not now. Maybe in the future I might have a think but I don’t want to fight.” His voice trailed off and he shrank into his seat. His fingertips traced the edges of his seat. “I don’t want to hurt people anymore. I just want to stop.”

The king smiled kindly at him from across his desk. With a swipe of his hand the hologram flicked out of existence and pulled a drawer open. The king pulled a folder from inside and slid it across the desk to Bucky.

“And that is your choice, Sargent Barnes. For now though, here is the details of your case along with other information in regards to your eventual reintroduction to the world.” The folder isn’t as thick as expected, given the international politics he’d gotten caught up, there’s a good chance some of the finer detail has been omitted to make it less overwhelming, more understandable. He set it on his lap and held it carefully. Tonight he’d go through some of it. Maybe he could make dinner and sit on the steps in the sun.

“Onto the next point, Sargent Barnes. I understand you visited Captain Rogers and the rest of his team the other day. I wanted offer myself, but I have also had requests from the Captain that you be allowed to live in their residence. Would you like to live with Captain Rogers?”

His breath caught in his throat.

Exits: closed door to the left. Floor to ceiling windows to the right; most likely reinforced.

Threats: one enhanced and combat trained individual. Previous engagement suggests to avoid challenge unless absolutely necessary. The king-

The king.

T’Challa.

Bucky dragged a breath in and slowly let it out, in through his nose and out through his mouth as the king sits there with worry etched inn his brow. He did his best to nod and give the other man a reassuring smile but it must have fallen flat as the king’s face barely changed. Instead of speaking he slowly hopped out of his chair and opened the office door. Over the scrape of his breathing the king murmured something to the Dora stationed outside that Bucky didn’t understand. The king then made his way back behind his desk and sat.

“Sargent Barnes, if you wish to leave this office at any point you may. You are also absolutely free to remain in the compound you have been living in for as long as you wish. Captain Rogers and his team don’t know your whereabouts. If you want them to know or want to move in the future, that is an option.”

He breathed.

He had choices. He wasn’t going to be trapped in the compound with people he didn’t know or trust. The door was open and the king would let him leave if he wanted to. It was gonna be okay.

“Thank you for the offer, your majesty,” he cleared his throat roughly; “but I’d like to stay in my current home.” There, the words were out there now.

“As you wish Sargent Barnes. Anything else you wish to discuss today?”

“Your Majesty, I was wondering, I had, if I could ask you a couple of questions. About Tony Stark.” And was it him or did T’Challa’s expression change, just that tiniest of twitches that anyone other than Bucky or the Widow would miss.

“What about Mister Stark?”

“Is he okay? We didn’t really talk. During BARF. And I saw him in the library but I haven’t said thank you for his help and he kept favouring his arm and I just, I just wanted to maybe talk to him?”

The king remained silent, looking at Bucky for a long moment. He tried not to fidget under the scrutiny. He’d been honest. He never did thank Stark for his help, instead he’d grabbed the man like an over excited idiot. Eventually, the king stood and wandered over to the windows that looked out into the thick jungle. He ran a hand over his closely trimmed hair and sighed. Still not facing Bucky, he seemed to make up his mind.

“What are your intentions towards Mister Stark? If I give you this information, what are you going to do with it, Sargent Barnes?”

That… didn’t bode well.

“I don’t have- my intentions are, I just want to thank him. I hurt him and he still helped me and I want to say thank you. He’s still hurt, I want to apol- apolog- I want to say sorry and I know there’s nothing I can do. To make it up to him, I mean. But I think it’s important to be said…” He trailed off. Intruding any more into Stark’s life was the last thing he wanted to do but it had been bugging him since he’d realized. He wanted Bucky Barnes to be better than that.

“I don’t want to talk to him. Not directly. Maybe I could write a letter?” A sickened look crossed the king’s face but he decided not to comment. There was a story there and Bucky was already pushing his luck. “He doesn’t want to talk to me and I don’t want to bother him. A phone call thing. Where he doesn’t pick up? Word… speech-mail? If that’s not okay I’ll leave him alone.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone. The information. It’s not mine to tell and it would hurt him and I don’t do that anymore.”

 

As he finished speaking, the king turned back to look at him, sharp eyes taking Bucky in. Whatever scales he was being held against, he must have passed because the king grabbed his desk chair and pulled it around to face Bucky. With a word to the guards outside, the door carefully closed. Sitting facing him, the king braced his elbows on his knees and sighed.

“Tony Stark would both appreciate and detest a thank you. I’m not sure if he is ready to hear and apology either. However, do not write him a letter. I will speak to him and ask if he is open to contact but,” the king paused, “you _will_ respect his decisions and his boundaries, Sargent Barnes. Now, ask your questions and I will answer what is appropriate.”

\---------

His head was buzzing the whole way back to his compound, almost like the faintest electrical buzz the chair had sometimes left him with. Bucky had been careful with his questions, and the king had been extra careful with his answers.

_“His arm originally received two fractures in the fight at Leipzig. Ms Maximoff dropped half a dozen cars on Mister Stark and even with the suit he sustained injury. I assume any further injury occurred during the fight between him, Captain Rogers and yourself in Siberia._

He would not be invasive. He would be respectful.

_Mister Stark is as safe as he can be given his involvement in recent events._

Up the front steps, unlock the door.

_“How would I describe Mister Stark? He is a mystery, and far better and beyond the image that the media paints of him. I don’t think I know him well but I believe him to be a loyal, caring man who uses his humor as self-defense.”_

Shoes off, through the kitchen and into his room.

_“I have been wrong about people before however. My mother is a much better judge of character than I am and for all I know; the Tony Stark I have been in contact with is another mask.”_

Flat on his back on his bed, his back clicked with expectation of a heavy arm dragging on his spine and ribs.

_“I would suggest you be cautious about forming an opinion on Tony Stark before you truly know the man, Sargent Barnes. He is as human and fallible as the rest of us and deserves the same respect.”_

Bucky let his eyes slip closed. His brain buzzed with activity.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky: I don't know what to do with my life.  
> T'Challa: It's okay, you have options  
> Bucky: I don't wanna hurt people or live with people I don't know  
> T'Challa: Fair enough  
> Bcuky: I wanna apologise and thank the man who helped fix my brain. Ya know, the confusing one whose parents I killed  
> T'Challa: *races around Wakanda hiding any pen or paper he can find*  
> T'Challa: I'll get back to you on that one
> 
> Little bit of a filler chapter but important to set up the future. I'm bored at work which means I'm gonna make a point of sitting down and knocking out a couple of hundred words every couple of days. Boredom makes my brain itchy so writing is my solution. fingers crossed, but it should mean that there isn't another three month gap between chapters
> 
> I hope you lovelies are well and I hope this posts because I am falling asleep as I type this
> 
> EDIT 2-04-2018  
> I saw A:IW on Monday night with my wonderful girlfriend and I am processing. This fic will contain no spoilers because we are waaaay before IW and this fic is focused on our two favourite idiots and not on the mean purple space grape. I also have very mixed feelings on that movie so again, that movie won't exist in this fic. It did however reveal to me just how bisexual I am because there's never been any doubt in my head that I like women but gods dam Sebastian Stan is a gorgeous man...


	5. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That phone call finally happens and these two idiots continue being idiots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a little birdy found my writing - happy birthday Ari, I hope a new chapter makes up for the lateness <3
> 
> \----- 
> 
> *turns up however late with starbucks* ya miss me?
> 
> Sorry about the wait lovelies, I had life going on and misplaced my charger. Also having a bit of a rough time at the moment so I can't say when the nest update will be - hopefully soon.

 

So, Barnes had been asking about him.

 

Huh, weird.

 

It’d been a week since he’d last spoken to the former assassin and Tony didn’t think that Barnes gave a flying fuck about him. In the month they’d spent together working on BARF they’d barely exchanged words but now Barnes was asking after him. T’Challa had let him know that the other man had wanted to know about Tony’s health and safety and – strangest of all – what kind of person he was. What would Barnes even need or want with that info? Did he want to know how good of a job he’d done in Siberia or something? Was he playing mind games with Tony? Nat played mind games but she never played anything too malicious or complicated with him, thank fuck. He’d seen her work her incy wincy spy skills on others though. Tony tought back to what he’d read of Hydra’s files, was the asset trained in espionage too? Was Steve in on this somehow? Were the two of them getting a laugh out of uselsss human Tony and his mangled arm and the new reactor?

 

Or maybe Barnes _wasn’t_ Rogers. Maybe he was asking because he _cared._

 

T’Challa seemed to think so.

 

After taking Rogers and his team in after Siberia, the Wakandan King very quickly decided that they were a headache and a half and contacted Tony in a fit of despair. The younger man had called, who knew how the hell he got Tony’s personal number but he was certainly impressed. Since living in Wakanda he’d met Shuri, a genius who could easily surpass his own intellect and _by Thor_ it was amazing to meet her. He’d have to find a way to introduce her to the teens in his internship program, definitely Riri and maybe Harley too.

 

Back on track Stark.

 

He’d been down in his workshop. Not working, just lying on the couch with a pair of wire cutters and a metre of scrap wiring. _He had been given physical therapy to do, had only fought a little when Rhodey dragged him to one of his own appointments and sat Tony on the table in front of a man who looked like Olympians would run from him and told him to listen, dammit Tones. So he did because his brother asked him to but he couldn’t force himself into the gym like Rhodey’s therapist wanted so he locked down the workshop and stripped and cut wire. He’d been told to use a stress ball, to squeeze it and release it to relearn control and rebuild wasted muscle. Instead he’d given the soft yellow ball to Butterfingers and taken up his tools instead._

_Then FRIDAY announced an incoming call from an unknown number._

 

Turned out that after the king took in the rogue Avengers, he discovered just how stubborn Rogers was, and the paraphernalia that came with the rest of the team. The only one he could sit down and have a reasonable conversation with was Barnes. Apparently he was very polite and considerate but the man had very quickly gone into the ice. With his best friend found but now kept from him in cryo, Rogers was bored. He’d ignored the boundaries T’Challa had set (in the name of security recon), requested (demanded) furniture and clothes and food beyond what was reasonably provided, and hounded T’Challa to be allowed to use his country as a base of operations for missions.

 

No wonder the king sounded desperate for some sanity.

 

It had led to the pair forming a tentative alliance that gradually became something like friendship. Tony now had someone reliably in his corner with the accords and T’Challa had someone to vent to. Over the months and SNAFUs they’d eventually reached a point that when T’Challa offered sanctuary, Tony accepted.

 

So that had happened, and now the arm was nearly finished. It was sleek and elegant, stronger and better than anything that Hydra could produce. He’d need to talk to Shuri – and Barnes – about the connections, the existing shoulder socket, nerve endings, colour, so much more to do. But he’d reached the limit of what he could do without Barnes involved. He’d spent the week on it, pushing himself double time to get Pepper’s paperwork sorted so that he could finally complete the arm, just in case.

 

And now Barnes wanted to talk to him – or leave him a voicemail at the very least.

 

T’Challa had gotten Barnes’ word that he’d respect any boundaries that Tony set and that included not allowing contact at all. Tony knew he wasn’t ready to talk in person, not yet, but he could manage a phone call. Barnes could do his talking thing and Tony could discuss the new arm. Two birds, one stone.

 

Perfect.

 

\---------

 

Two days after the meeting between T’Challa and Barnes, Tony sat by the phone and waited. The two days had been set to allow both men to prepare. The plan was for Barnes to call Tony from a phone provided by T’Challa, so he could stay safe and comfy in his rooms. Having discussed this with T’Challa, the man had one request for him and that was to give Barnes the truth, _“no matter how painful it is for the pair of you. Neither of you will find peace unless you are open with each other; prepared to listen and take the other at face value. After everything you have each been through, I think you each deserve the honest truth, don’t you?_

 

Tony would give his useless left arm to have had Puddytat’s wisdom and patience at his age. He had given his word to the king though. He’d at least try to be honest with Barnes.

 

\---------

 

Holding the phone the king had trusted him with,

 

“привет, sorry, h-hello?”

 

“Tony speaking.” There he was. Bucky swallowed and took a breath.

 

“I just wanted to, to say sorry and how are you?” There was a pause on the other end, like the engineer was playing his words over in his head. Neither his list nor Steve mentioned manipulative so the pause was likely out of uncertainty rather than mind games. “I mean, how are you today?”

 

“I’m, I’m doing okay. A little bit sore, but I’m used to it. How are you?”

 

“Today is a good day. I feel nervous, I think? Maybe kee- eag- I have been looking forward to this. Talking to you. I am pleased that you’re okay.” Look at him, naming his emotions. Doc was going to be so proud.

 

“T’Challa said you wanted to talk about a couple of things?” Right, right. Bucky had talked with the King about what he wanted to say, and the king’s advice had been to start with the apology and then try to thank Stark. All Bucky wanted to know was what the hell had this man been through that he’d be less likely to hang up the phone talking to his parent’s killer about their death than accept a thank you? Would it be too soon to ask? He’d better hurry up and talk before the man hung up from boredom; that was certain.

“I wanted to say sorry for killing your parents. It wasn’t my choice, but I did, I did it and I hurt you and I’m sorry.”

 

Silence.

 

Stark didn’t hang up on him, but he was so silent that Bucky thought the phone had lost the connection. Until, at last, Stark dragged in a stuttering breath and replied.

 

“Th-thank you Barnes.” The engineer cleared his throat – was he crying? Had Bucky mad him cry? “Thank you, but I know it wasn’t your fault. You had no control of your body or your actions so it wasn’t your choice. Hydra used you to kill them, my mum’s death is on them. Thank you for the apology anyway.”

 

“You… you what?”

 

“I forgive you, Barnes.” And yes, that sounded a lot like escaped tears. Stark’s words left Bucky feeling… he didn’t know the word. Heavier with reality yet lighter from having started to make up for what he’d done. The guilt still sat with him, probably always would but he deserved that. Stark interrupted his musings with an apology of his own.

 

“I need to apologise too Barnes. I’m sorry I attacked you in Siberia. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you, I was angry and you were right in front of me and I should have had better control of myself. I’m sorry about your arm too, I need to talk to you about that. I was so angry at Ste-Rogers and,” Stark sighed heavily; “I’m gonna make It up to you. I want to talk to you about that before I forget.”

 

“It is okay, you were angry and I understand. I forgive you. I also wanted to say, say thank you. Barf. For your help I mean, with Barf and the triggers.” Bucky interrupted. He didn’t need Stark to make anything up to him, he’d done enough already. “You put a lot of time and en- ener- effort into h-helping me and you didn’t have to but спасиба. Thank you.”

 

The silence this time was awkward, Bucky was sure he could hear the engineer fidgeting with something, was that wire being cut? He waited it out with the patience of a sniper, he wasn’t going to hang up unless the other man asked him to. Or started being a dick, but even then he might stay on the line just to get evidence for his list. He was gonna figure Stark out, dammit.

 

“You don’t need to thank me Barnes, it was the least I could do. I mean if you think about it I owe you. I’ve gotta make up for Siberia somehow.” The words rolled off the man’s tongue like a press release and it grate against Bucky.

 

“Stark, no. You helped me, I’m thanking you for it. Пожалуйста, you don’t have to ac- accep- keep it but please don’t give it back to me like it doesn’t mean anything. And you don’t have anything to make up for. Steve and I messed up too-”

 

 _Click_ and the line goes dead.

 

Fuck.

 

\---------

 

A couple of hours later Bucky lay stewing on the sofa, puzzling over his conversation with Stark. Which bit was too much… probably shouldn’t have mentioned Steve. Too much, too soon. It was a lovely evening, he could make his dinner and eat it on the front steps with his book. Put his mess out of his mind for a little bit.

 

_Beep Beep_

 

Bucky grabbed the phone from its spot on the armrest and opened the message. T’Challa probably wanted to know how it went, and Bucky would have to tell him.

 

[MESSAGE RECEIVED: 18:12]

[SENDER: _Phone One_ ]

_If you want a new arm I’ll talk to Shuri. Decide what colour you want it and don’t bring up Rogers_

_\- T.S._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T'Challa totally ships it and you can't tell me otherwise


	6. Face To Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternative chapter title: Shuri is a scheming schemer who schemes and two idiots finally start talking about Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for this chapter: contains content about teeth and bad things being done to teeth. It refers to a past event and isn't any worse than anything else in this fic so far but I really _really_ don't like these things (so why did I write this? who knows) and figured I wouldn't be the only one out there
> 
> These little shits completely fucked around my plan for this chapter you have no idea
> 
> \--------- 
> 
> So, um, hi. Long time no see. The short story is that life kinda went to shit for a while and is still kinda shit but I'm working on it. Does a 4.6k update make up for it? I'll put more about things in the end notes for if you're interested.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy my lovelies!

 

 

Well, that was awkward. He hadn’t meant to cry and he certainly hadn’t expected such a genuine apology from Barnes. Shit, he hadn't expected an apology at all, the man had acted in self-defence. Now, if he could just make it through this meeting without Rogers being brought up or Barnes thanking him for whatever misguided reason, that’d be great.

 

\---------

 

Shuri hadn’t just laughed, she’d had an absolute field day when Tony told her that he’d had gone off on his own and designed an arm for Barnes on top of the one he’d already helped Shuri, T’Challa and his team with. Tony had sighed and followed her deeper into her lab as she pulled up the blue prints he’d sent her and pulled apart his latest design.

 

“So, Wakandan technology not good enough for you huh?” Shuri’s eyes were lit with mischief, “just had to go and design another arm after all that time and effort I put into the first one.” Tony grinned at her teasing. Initially, the teen had been defensive to Tony coming in to her workspace, on the lookout for him taking over her work and ignoring her abilities. When T’Challa introduced them, Tony - who’d been awake for three days and was powered by coffee and jetlag – had promptly demanded how the hell she’d found his personal number cause that took skill to work around FRIDAY and did you create T’Challa’s suit cause holy shit that is a work of art and would she mind explaining to him again please?

 

“Of course it isn’t,” he laughed, “that’s why I’m here asking for your help to figure out how to attach it.” He stood next to Shuri (who stood on her tiptoes till Tony poked his tongue out at her and no he wasn’t short thank you very much) and watched as she pulled both designs out of the black sand that she refused to explain to him (magic is not an answer Shuri!). She deftly manipulated the joints, testing the range and flexibility, stripping it further down and running numbers in her head as she went over Tony’s own simulations. Seemingly satisfied, she turned back to him.

 

“You know what I’m going to ask.”

 

“That’s because I’m a genius.”

 

“So why then have you put not one but two arc reactors in it?” She pulled the sand-made wiring apart to revel the tiny arc reactor that sat nestled in the arm’s deltoid, and the other tucked safely in the forearm. “These weren’t in the original,” with a gesture the arm in question is pulled into an exploded view before them, highlighting the power source that had been confirmed suitable.

 

"One's a back-up, in case the other is damaged or compromised. The idea is that they can split and share power if they need too. I mean, I can make two so why not?”

 

"Nothing to do with the fact you damaged the single power source in Barnes' last arm and want to make sure he doesn't have to experience that again?"

 

"No idea what you're talking about."

 

"Right," she drawled, "you're putting not one but _two_ of your precious arc reactors Barnes' arm and it's not because you’re feeling guilty but purely because your design is so inefficient that it needs two."

 

"Shuri, please-"

 

From the foot of the stairs came a soft sound that had the two geniuses spinning to face the newcomer. Barnes stood alone, hunched in on himself with his hair loose around his face. Even still, part of Tony's brain screamed threat, only to be drowned by the horrified noise his conscience made at the empty shirt sleeve. He ducked his head and stayed silent. Barnes was just here for an arm. Sure, they'd apologised to each other but that didn't mean he should invade the former assassin's life more than he had to.

 

No one in the room said anything until Shuri snorted. "Okay, put your big boy pants on the pair of you and let's talk tech." She turned back to her sand table before spinning around to a holographic screen. Immediately all the blue prints and data on Hydra's arm shimmered into her view. This left Tony standing there in front of the other man.

 

"Right, well, you heard the princess. Can't keep royalty waiting."

 

\------

 

He didn't know where to look or go first. In front of him was Stark, whose hand was shaking like an abused dog. Behind him though, was a scene right out of one of his Sci-Fi novels. Princess Shuri was working on a fucking hologram for Pete’s sake. It was so sleek and shiny, designs floating in the air and weird tables that had some kind of black sand filling them. It was as far from Hydra's decrepit, heartless labs as possible.

 

Stark awkwardly turned and headed towards a table next to the one that the princess had claimed. The older genius began pulling up what looked like blueprints for two arms. He didn't have the same familiarity with the tech, Bucky noted, but was comfortable nonetheless. The lighting was sharp without being harsh, easy to work under and seemed to be designed to draw attention to the projects the Princess was most proud of. The prime example were the three manikins in the centre of the lab, two with a necklace of some kind and the third wearing what he recognised as the King's Black Panther armour. Whatever it was made of, it still looked pristine even after the beating it had taken.

 

Nearly matched in height, the pair were standing there with expectant looks on their faces. Well, Stark was more focused on the holograms before them but the point was made. Ducking his head he made his way over.

 

"Let’s get this started: how much feeling did you have in your old arm and do you want feeling in your new one? Well, as much as we can manage."

 

"You can give me feeling?" Bucky blurted. "The old one, it didn't, there wasn't any feeling." Stark still didn't make eye contact but his fingers twitched over the schematics. Princess Shuri nodded.

 

"Of course. This isn't 1940's Hydra. What they made at the time was beyond what colonisers ever managed before but this is the _future_. This arm is Wakandan and-or Stark tech. You want nerves? You can have nerves."

 

"We do need to scan your current shoulder and- you've already done it haven't you?"

 

"Way too slow." The younger genius grinned and the older huffed with a small smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

 

She brings what look like x-rays up on screen and they must be of him because there's a whole lot of metal and not a lot of arm. It looked like his shoulder socket is intact, though his shoulder blade and collarbone look like they've been replaced by metal copies. The disturbing bit is the sheer amount of metal that invades his ribs and spine. How heavy, how fucked up was Hydra's arm that they had to reinforce his body like a crumbling house just to carry this weapon... and that was all added on top of Zola's bastardised serum.

 

"Here's your options Barnes. You can take either Stark's arm, or the original arm that he, myself, T'Challa and some of Wakanda’s top engineers and scientists worked on. We'll need to have a proper look at what's left of your shoulder to see if there's anything worth salvaging and how best to attach a new one. And if you want nerves, we'll do our best."

 

"Also, what do you want it to look like?"

 

"Look... like?"

 

"Yes, Sargent Barnes. It's your arm, you get to choose what it looks like. So, if you come over here and take a seat on that Bast-awful couch that Stark seems to love," the wounded sound Stark made had a small grin threatening to show on Bucky’s face.

 

"As I was saying, you come and sit here and I'll look at your shoulder while Tony walks you through our current two models. Plan?"

 

Bucky couldn't do anything but nod and headed over to the couch that the princess had indicated. It was out of place in the futuristic lab, just like himself _and maybe Stark too, despite the subtle back-and-forth between him and Princess Shuri_. So, he sat, remains of his shoulder exposed to Princess Shuri and focused on the images Stark pulled up in the holograms in front of him.

 

"Okay, so. Option one is this the first design. It was created by Shuri, T'Challa, and some of their techs, with input from myself. The arm has one power source - Wakandan design - and is designed to be made from vibrainium. The nerve interface will definitely better but the sensors mean the plating limits the range of movement. Option two is my own design, so it's less refined that the first. Let's be honest, Wakandan tech is gorgeous. The nerve interface won’t be as good but the range of motion is better since the plating design isn't limited by sensor placement. It's got two power sources - my design - so you've got a back-up in case the main gets damaged. It's also a bit lighter - option one is significantly lighter than Hydra's arm but it still doesn't quite match the weight of your right arm. Option one does pack a hell of a lot more punch though.

 

"They can be made out of vibranium or the gold-titanium alloy like my suit. And you can customise either of them. We could probably make a fake skin if you wanted, not sure how well the nerves would work or whether it'd hold up in battle. You can chose the colour and pattern, entirely up to you."

 

"So, they're basically the same?" Bucky kept his focus on Stark in an effort to ignore whatever the genius teen was doing to his shoulder. He couldn't feel anything, he'd never had any sensation beyond pressure so he couldn't feel the princess messing around with the wiring. That was a relief, Hydra had somehow found ways to hurt him whenever his shoulder needed maintenance near the remaining flesh. Still, it wasn't something he wanted to watch and he'd take any distraction.

 

And the man had made him an arm? Not just helped on the first one but then gone and designed a second one by himself. What was Stark's goal here? Was he trying to buy him, win his trust with an arm and then turn on him? Steve seemed to think so. But this was far from the first thing the man had done for him, the most he'd ever spoken to him, and Princess Shuri was right there too. He trusted her, as much as he was able to, and she and T'Challa trusted Stark, who was offering him a new arm. So, he had a choice to think about.

 

"Sort of? It kinda depends on what Whiskers here thinks will work best with your current shoulder but it comes down to what you want it made of and what you prioritise; nerves or movement, strength or weight. Any ideas?"

 

"I don't want silver." Bucky blurted. It was too noticeable to pass off even as a fashion statement and silver had been Hydra's. "Anything but silver."

 

"Careful, or we'll make you a bright green one. With racing stripes. I'm thinking... orange." Princess Shuri joked. Bucky huffed slightly. Still a better idea than silver.

 

\---------

 

Time flew by and before Bucky knew it, Princess Shuri was closing up his shoulder and tidying up the loose ends. Stark cut himself off and nudged the holograms off to the side. Snagging a rolling stool he plonked himself down and looked over to the other genius, who shared her findings.

 

"So, I've done as much here as I can for now. It looks like either arm will fit nicely, with some tidying and basic restructuring. I need to go to talk to T'Challa, update him about all this so how about you two talk and sort things out?" And with that, the teen was gone in a flurry of data and holograms and a couple of quick glances over her shoulder at the pair she left behind. Bucky would have bet his one flesh arm that the look on her face was almost gleefully expectant.

 

"She could have just messaged him and she knows it." Stark grumbled, drawing Bucky's attention back to him. He was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to have heard the words given how quiet the genius was but hey - Stark knew how the serum worked.

 

"Yeah. Pretty sure she left for a re- reas-purpose." Stark startled, and then went back to the hologram arms before them.

 

"Cheeky little shit. Gods she's bright, you know that? Much smarter than I'll ever be."

 

"Probably taller too." The words were out there before he can stop them and he flinched, being a smart-mouth meant punishment he didn't want to be punished please no don't- no not the pliers please not again-

 

"hey... Barnes... listen to me." What? "I know you're in there somewhere Barnes, just breathe, listen to me. It's one o'clock on February 12th. You're in Princess Shuri's main lab in Wakanda. Your name is James Barnes, you're safe, no one is going to hurt you." As the Soldier- the Asse- as _Bucky_ got his breathing back under control, the world slowly returned to focus. Stark was in front of him, crouched low and hands held in clear view.

 

"Stark" the name clawed its way out his throat with a rasping sound, had he been screaming? Stark didn't seem overly disturbed, just, worried? Concerned? Bucky focused on him, taking in all he could of the surroundings. Hydra had never had a handler or technician like Stark, they'd never had a lab like the princess's either but Stark was easier to focus on.

 

"That's me, Barnes. How are y- don't worry." _How are you feeling?_ Stark cut himself off before abruptly reclaiming his seat and turning back to the holograms. "So," he started, "if not silver, any ideas to get the ball rolling? Maybe each plate a different colour? Gradient, random, glitter? The Glitter Soldier doesn't have the best ring to it but you could make it work."

 

Stark continued to talk, bouncing ideas off him as he hauled air into his lungs and began to settle down. The couch beneath him was soft and comfortable, the cushions faintly worn and far from anything Hydra had inflicted on him. However. Bile sat in the back of his throat. He had to know. Cautiously he ran the tip of his tongue around the inside of his mouth, gently touching each tooth. They were all there, Слава Богу. The second pass of his tongue confirmed that each of his teeth was firmly anchored in his mouth.

 

"Barnes?"

 

The soft voice pulled Bucky's focus back to the room around him, and he looked over to Stark, tongue pressed against the front of an incisor. Bucky shuffled in place, dropping his gaze and closing his mouth.

 

"Прости, just, just had to, to check. Make sure they were all there." He shivered, hunched in on himself. Pathetic.

 

"Did they... hurt your teeth often?" His voice was soft yet rough, like bile was sitting waiting behind his tonsils and he knew the answer he was going to get but had to ask anyway. Like he didn't want to ask but was prepared to hear Bucky out if he answered.

 

Bucky nodded. One last pass of his tongue across his teeth, and a sharp bite to his tongue settled him enough to try to give a proper answer.

 

"Да. Mostly at the start, before the brainwashing kicked in properly. Th-th-they would p-pull them out if I talked back, or cr-cr-crush them, leave them in мои десны- my gums. They stopped when I was compliant. They didn't want the asset to be out of commission too long re-growing teeth." Stark had grown paler and paler as Bucky spoke, his usually warm complexion fading to white. At the pause in Bucky's words, he waved for him to continue. _Masochist,_ his list said, alongside _uncaring_. _Sadistic_ one of Steve's team - the witch? - had said but this seemed to be upsetting Stark more than Bucky himself.

 

"The Солдат, I mean, I could complete a mission while my teeth were broken or re-growing but something, um, what's the words... Something in my head reminded me- the Солдат about when they were con-condit-conit- breaking _me_ and the words and the orders didn't work so well. _A flash of CCTV footage from an old base, the soldier, huddled screaming in a corner, metal hand held tight to his jaw covered in tears and blood_. And they didn't grow back in cryo so that meant keeping me thawed and that meant their control broke down and I killed people..."

 

Stark was silent for a long minute, before pressing his hands to his face and propping his elbows on his knees.

 

"Fucking hell Barnes. Just, fuck." Bucky sat silently. Whatever was going through Stark's head right now seemed too important to interrupt, and he couldn't promise he wouldn't say something that would make this moment worse. Like try to apologise. That seemed like a very, very bad idea. No, he had been a sniper, he could wait this out.

 

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made you talk about that." Stark waved off Bucky before he could butt in, continuing in a hollow voice. "I saw what they did to you, you know, with BARF, and I read through Hydra's notes from the SHIELD info dump. Didn't want to hack anything or invade your privacy. But I needed to know how the old one worked and what would work with your shoulder, how I could fix it. Make up for what I did to you. But that, the teeth thing, fuck. I don't know. That just really got to me.

 

"And now I'm making this all about me. God I'm shit at this. So, your arm, you don't have to choose now, no pressure. Just, ideas?"

 

"You don't need to make anything up to me." Bucky mumbled, Stark's words going around in his brain. "I didn't mind talking about it. It felt... fuck." He ran his hand through his hair; "I don't know the word for it. Sorry."

 

"I do though. I lashed out when I already knew you'd been brainwashed and I tried to kill you. I'm not good with words - ask my ex-girlfriend - I ramble and I make things cause I can't say what I need to and never shut up. So I'm making you an arm to try and make up for attacking an innocent man who's been through hell and to make up for my awful apology skills."

 

"You weren't trying to kill me."

 

"Yes, I was."

 

"Trust me, I know you weren't- fine." That stubborn certainty isn’t worth fighting. Something for later maybe. Stark hadn't truly been trying to kill him in that bunker, he was sure of it. There was a reason that Stark's enemies were one-offs and why Hydra's file on _Tony Stark_ was screaming with more warning signs than the one marked _Iron Man_. Let Stark believe it for now. "You said sorry, appo- appol- dammit, apologised, for what happened and I told you I accept it." The man sitting in front of him was not the man that he'd been warned about. The masks were still on, barricades up, but the cracks stood out in sharp relief against the man he'd been told to expect and run from. What had Steve seen that Bucky couldn't, no, what _couldn't_ Steve see?

 

Steve.

 

In his head, Bucky weighed up discussing Steve, his secret keeping that had ripped through his friendship with Stark. The man was still slightly slumped on the rolling stool, elbows on knees, and looking as gaunt as Bucky had last seen him. Again, the image didn't match up. The shirt had a hole in the neck and looked comfortably threadbare, a favourite he'd bet. The design on the front was broken up by what looked like a blue-white light shining through _why was that colour familiar? Where had he seen it before?_ His jeans looked just as comfortable and familiar on him as his shirt, stained with grease and the odd scorch mark.

 

Bucky had the uncomfortable feeling he was looking at _Tony_ rather than _Stark_ ; or as much as the genius was prepared to let show. Something in him flared with a feeling that he couldn't name. No, Steve shouldn't have any part in this moment. This moment was theirs.

 

"I'm not mad you attacked me. You saw me kill your parents." Tread carefully, Stark's body language screamed through the tension in his shoulders, the white skin over his knuckles. "It, it hurt, but I understood why. And I'm sorry I att- attac- retaliated, I was scared."

 

When Stark spoke, his voice was hoarse, eyes staring somewhere Bucky couldn't follow. "I'm sorry I scared you. Me in the armour;" he barked out a laugh, "I'm just a man in a can but that armour has taken on worse than two super soldiers. Did I ever tell you why I developed BARF?"

 

The change in direction had Bucky confused before shaking his head. "This is the longest conv- con- talk we have ever had," and catches the tiny grimace cross Stark's face.

 

"Didn't want to inflict myself on you or force you to spend more time with me than you had to. But since we're here," he sighed, "Let me tell you about BARF. Stop me if you get bored.

 

 

_I have PTSD, he told him, or Shell Shock. In a slow, steady voice Stark revealed his struggle with treatment, the decision to create BARF. His eyes burned with wary resignation. There was no trust in them; he was just waiting for the inevitable. Shoulders hunched as he told of sitting through memories repeated over and over to gather data, to fine tune the device before even beginning to sort through his trauma. Trying to say goodbye to his parents._

_All that, only to be thrown into the Accords chaos before watching his parents’ murder. Finding out their deaths were an execution and his friend had been lying for years about it._

 

"So when Zemo played that video in the bunker, it wasn't me watching a video from 1991, it was a video from three days ago."

 

"О Боже."

 

The silence hung between them. It wasn't awkward, just, heavy. Softly, so not to startle the genius lost in his head before him, Bucky spoke up.

 

"Does BARF stand for anything or..." Bucky let the sentence trail, for Stark to pick it up.

 

"Officially, it's Binarily Augmented Retro Framing."

 

"Unofficially?"

 

"It took a _long_ time to get BARF to work. It wasn't pretty, science never is in the early stages. The version I was using before I recalibrated and reworked it for your needs gave me electromagnetic headaches. The early versions made me throw up a lot. Brains are a lot fiddlier than robots."

 

\-----------

 

That, unfortunately, was as far as their conversation got that afternoon. Before the pair could continue Stark's phone rang and broke the bubble around them. He'd taken one glance at the screen, made a face and excused himself, mouthing 'goodbye' to Bucky before heading for the exit.

 

Bucky had sat on the couch for another minute, looking over the hologram arms and toying with the models. He had plenty to think over. Two arm options, and the surprise conversation with Stark. He’d have to ask Princess Shuri for a written copy of the specifications because he couldn’t remember enough of Stark’s talk to make a choice.

 

For now he was perfectly content to sit on his front steps and work his way through the pile of sandwiches he’d made for dinner. _Lords and Ladies_ sat next to him, abandoned in favour of his thoughts. Princess Shuri was incredible, the fact that she had possibly figured out a way to create nerves that’d work in his new arm was even more fantastic than the dime-store novels he used to read. This awe was only overshadowed by Stark.

 

The man seemed to have let his guard down in the lab today, more so than Bucky ever thought he’d see. _He is a mystery,_ King T’Challa had told him, _far better and beyond the image that the media paints of him._ His initial picture was slowly becoming more distorted the longer he spent around the man. That didn’t mean he was going to drop his guard - even the king didn’t know when Stark was wearing a mask. But the man that sat in the lab and talked to him had seemed so genuine. The consideration he’d shown when he’d freaked out, the frank discussion and lack of fear. The exhaustion that sat heavy in every line of his body and the way he treated the teenage genius. And what was it that he’d said? Something about not inflicting himself on Bucky. Like _Stark_ was the one who should be worried about that.

 

If it was all a mask he was going to be so disappointed. And that, next to the feeling that had taken root at the possible glimpse of _Tony_ left Bucky sitting on the steps well into the evening. The warm air had begun to cool by the time he shook himself back into the present. He stood, dusted himself off, and brought his things inside. Tomorrow he had an appointment with Doctor Nokhanyo. She should probably know about the flashback and that kind of talk needed a couple of hours sleep behind him. Hopefully Stark slept okay too. Looked like he could use it.

 

 

**_Tony Stark:_ **

  * _Self-obsessed: really doubting this. Everything he’s done or spoken about so far has been about someone else. Has helped me repeatedly and of own will. Openly considers Princess Shuri to be more skilled and intelligent than he is based on arm discussion. Do I need more evidence?_
  * _Names things stupidly: B.A.R.F. I know why now but still, it can’t be the only thing he’s named something ridiculous_
  * _Uncaring: unlikely, see first point for evidence. Expresses considerable guilt and helped calm me down from a flash-back. King T’Challa disagrees with this point. Would like to talk more to gain more insight_
  * _Rude: possibly, mostly sarcastic and self-depreciating than anything. Otherwise is polite and relatively kind?_
  * _Volatile: Siberia happened, enough said on that. Latest conversation shows him to be tense, on edge (probably cause of me) but otherwise comes across as being pretty calm?_
  * _Doesn't admit when he's wrong: Expresses regret and apologizes. Not a direct admittance but is evidence against. Still not worth starting an argument with him for evidence_
  * _Masochist: Jesus. Fucking. Christ. The things this man will put himself through despite not enjoying it at all_
  * _Nerd: Loves Sci-Fi and fantasy and will talk a mile a minute, eyes light up like you wouldn’t believe_
  * _Can read Russian? Must find out more. Increased threat level if he can command the soldier, possible ally? Need to consider possibility of a handler/safety net if the soldier was triggered – is he a suitable option? Has not abused power previously but Steve doesn’t trust him. Counterpoint: Steve’s not making much sense and his assessment of Stark is proving to be inaccurate_
  * _Friendly: seems to have good relationship with Princess Shuri, who I believe has a good judge of character. King T’Challa rates him too_
  * _Self-esteem: keep an eye on this one. Tested BARF on himself – self-preservation???_



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shuri: look at these two idiots, they each think the other hates them  
> Shuri: they're both gonna be in my lab tomorrow  
> Shuri: it's beneficial for both of them, they should probably talk through that shit-show  
> Shuri: right.
> 
> Tony: I might not like this man  
> Tony: but I don't want to hurt this man anymore than I have  
> Tony: I just want to make him an arm dammit Shuri  
> Bucky: who the fuck is Tony Stark
> 
>  Can you tell I have issues/an irrational fear of teeth? Like anything wrong with teeth or just seeing them out of someone's mouth... fuck nope. Yes I'm projecting but that would be an awful punishment/torture but fuck it. Life things - I've found a new psych since I couldn't get hold of my old one and she's thrown a whole lot of things in the air but she seems good. However, new doc new diagnosis ideas and I'm sceptical but hey, maybe she's onto something. New doc is for the same reason this took what, three months? to update. My headspace is awful, depression kills my writing, but I'm doing okay. Again, I'm sorry for the delay in updating but I hope you liked this chapter. If you've commented and I haven't responded, I'll do my best to get onto that too.
> 
> Now time for bed, it's 3am and I really need to stop updating at ridiculous times of the morning
> 
> Love, Sheep x
> 
> (Ever so quietly, I have another fic in the works at the moment that's a **very** dark au. Features Tony, Bucky, and a very protective Death (not Marvel's). Currently undecided if there will be winteriron. If any of you are keen, would you rather I posted that as I wrote it, or wrote all of it then posted it, knowing how slow to update I am?)


	7. And You May Ask Yourself,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're having an identity crisis and you know it clap your hands-
> 
> .... oh, wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! It's me!
> 
> Short story: things are rough, I'm mostly ok and customer service is threatening to devour my soul and faith in humanity. The chapter title is taken from Talking Heads "One In A Lifetime" which fits quite nicely with Bucky methinks.
> 
> All of you are wonderful and your comments are so kind, I'm sorry I haven't responded to most of you. I hope you're all having a good holidays - stay safe and have fun <3
> 
> On that note, enjoy my lovelies!

The emotional bubble that had tentatively formed around himself and Barnes was popped by his phone ringing. The screen flashed Doctor Cho’s number and Tony couldn’t help but make a face. He quickly got up and mouthed an apologetic goodbye to Barnes as he hurried out of Shuri’s lab, phone to his ear and Helen’s voice asking if he was there.

 

“I’m here, Helen. Sorry, was just doing some lab work. You know how easy it is to get caught up in it all.” Before Tony could try to deflect of distract, Helen jumped straight to the point.

 

“Of course. Now, how’s the reactor casing settling in? Any problems with your ribs?”

 

This was a conversation Tony really hadn’t wanted to have. He’d been expecting it; knew Doctor Cho was as thorough as she was caring, albeit a little coarser and more guarded than she was prior to Ultron and the Maximoffs terrorizing her. Which was fair, and he was a lucky bastard that she’d been prepared to help piece him back together after Siberia. All the more reason to head back to his rooms and the privacy offered.

 

“The casing is fine, there’s still a bit of flex that I don’t think should be there but I’m not worried at this stage. Breathing’s a bitch but it always was. Ribs don’t hurt any more than last time, and they feel healed.” Tony wasn’t able to keep his left hand from coming up to tap at the arc reactor itself, a shaky pattern that settled something in him. Helen continued her questions as he took the shortcut home through the jungle.

 

“What kind of flexing? The flexing that was planned into the case? Or your ribs? Because if things are moving that shouldn’t be, you know we’re going to have to look into why and other solutions.”

 

“Just, you know;” Tony climbed the front steps and ignored the way his breath had started to shorten. He could cut this conversation short if he could find his damn tablet. “The case flexing. Good flexing.” And it was good flexing, between Helen’s research and Tony’s tech they’d managed to create a case that was strong enough and rigid enough to house the weight of the reactor and reinforce his fragile bones - while still allowing the slightest movement of his chest to ease his breathing. Where was it- there, on the couch right where he’d left it. He dithered for a moment, before tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder and unlocking the tablet. With a couple of taps, he’d sent the doctor the readings from the nanites from the last couple of months and a moment later heard the corresponding ‘ding’ from Helen’s own computer.

 

“What… Good, the nanites are showing satisfactory results… Left arm making slow progress… Alright.” Settling onto the couch Tony listened as the doctor went over the data. It covered everything, ribs, reactor performance, his left arm’s progress, his heart, he was particularly proud of this set of nanites. “I’ll trust your word, Tony. I want x-rays within the next month and I’ll call if I find anything wrong. If you think something is wrong, contact me immediately. Understood?”

 

“Understood. Take care, Helen.”

 

Conversation over, Tony let the tension from his body and the all the air he could from his lungs. What a fucking day. He’d half expected Barnes to be glowing with health and itching to talk about his buddy Rogers, but the man had looked terrified to be there. Of course he was, he was in a lab for fucks sake Tony, about to let people mess with his arm – willing to let _Tony_ mess with his arm.

 

He’d gone over the Hydra files with a fine-tooth comb after the first conversation about replacing the former assassin’s arm with T’Challa, and continued to read through the awful documentation when Shuri proposed nerves. There had been mentions of pressure sensors in a couple of strategic points but Tony hadn’t found them when he’d stripped the old arm down. Barnes’ reveal that he had had no feeling had filled Tony with so much relief he’d wanted to throw up. _Barnes wasn’t forced to feel his arm be blown off by Tony’s actions._ The guilt still sat in the back of his throat but he could clutch at that titbit of relief.

 

Then there was the flashback and panic attack.

 

Tony wasn’t quite sure what had set Barnes off in the lab that had led to that pleasant revelation. Was it the smart comment that the man had made? Rogers hadn’t talked about Barnes often, but Tony’d heard enough from Aunt Peggy and Howard to get a rough idea of who Barnes used to be. The man had been a charmer, witty and easy going – while being stubborn enough to go up against Rogers. Turning that Bucky Barnes into the Winter Soldier would have begun with culling any humour from the man. Tony would bet a good chunk of his fortune that Barnes had pissed off plenty of his captors in the beginning with some choice barbed remarks. God knew what condition Tony would be in if the Ten Rings and Raza had decided to sit in that cave with Tony, or if Yinsen wasn’t there to keep Tony from acting out and aggravating the situation.

 

At least he’d had a chance to talk to Barnes, even if it was awful and difficult for both of them. It was weird, nice even, because Barnes had sat there and _listened_ , about his mum and BARF and not getting to say goodbye. Maybe he felt obligated? No, the responses Barnes gave felt genuine – he even followed Tony’s request to not mention Rogers. Stayed awake the whole time even. Who was this version of Barnes? He seemed curious about Tony, interested. But why would he be? He had every reason to hate Tony, so what could Barnes be looking to gain? Was Rogers involved?

 

The anxiety built up slowly but Tony couldn’t stop wondering. He knew he was being paranoid, sue him, he had good reason to be. Opening up to anyone – especially to Barnes – felt like he was unscrewing the reactor millimetre by millimetre. Trust someone enough and they’d pull it right out of his chest. He had spares but what if they damaged his ribs and this time Helen couldn’t save him?

 

Tony ran his hand through his hair and took a breath, holding it before releasing it as a sigh. Tonight was going to be one of those nights. He could get up and make food or grab a snack…or he could skip dinner. Just pull a blanket over himself and watch a movie on his tablet. It wouldn’t stave off the inevitable nightmares about broken reactors and Rogers’ face or the chorus of other terrifying fuel he had on hand. Barnes and his teeth would no doubt show up too, cracked like the reactor- Nope. Fuck. Of course he had to talk to Barnes right before discussing the reactor. Tomorrow might be better. If not, Tony was sure Shuri could find something to do without him there.

 

Pulling the blankets tighter around himself, Tony’s mind wandered back to Barnes in the lab that day. He’d have to apologise for abandoning the other man like that, especially after that little heart-to-heart. Hopefully the man got some sleep tonight, gods knew he deserved it.

 

\---------

 

It turned out that the Princess was a few steps ahead of Bucky, because she’d had a neat folder of information about the proposed shoulder updates and new arm options delivered to his doorstep. He’d actually tripped over it as he went to walk down his steps and not quite caught his balance before he’d landed in the dirt. Brushing himself off was awkward with only the one hand. Not for much longer, he reminded himself. Almost tempted to read it there and then, Bucky put it inside. He had other plans and couldn’t back out now.

 

Neatly making his way down the obscure jungle path, Bucky eventually emerged on the edge of Steve’s compound. It was going to be a good day. He was clean and tidy, even his shoulder was looking neater than last time, and he had good news for Steve. Deep breath, Barnes. You’ve got this.

 

Bucky eased his way through the bland hallways until he came to the communal kitchen area. It was early enough that Steve should be the only one awake. Was it Steve who said he got up early? Or was it a handler? Maybe Bucky used to get up early? Doing his best to untangle the knotted memories in his brain, he shuffled where he stood. The kitchen was a tidy size; simple, clean and probably a bit cramped given the number of people living here. Dividing the kitchen and lounge space was counter top and a set of bar stools that Bucky eyed cautiously. Should he sit and wait? Would it be rude to sit in Steve’s kitchen without invitation? He never would have had a problem with this before Hydra, Steve would know. But if Bucky guessed wrong…

 

\---------

 

“Hey Shuri, not gonna make it in today sorry. Got uh… SI work, yeah, my CEO has things for me to do urgently... No, that wasn’t a yawn, I’m awake… I slept fine…. Barnes was good. Had a great time chatting… cheeky little shit… Okay that one might have been a yawn… you didn’t need me in anyway? You’re sure? …cheers Shuri, I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

 

\---------

 

“Buck?” Arms wrapped around him and pinned him down, this wasn’t in the mission briefing, should he engage? There, right by his mouth, the asset’s opponent had left his throat exposed. If he just turned his head slightly-

 

“…made you breakfast if I knew you’d be here. Come on, what do you feel like? Or have you eaten already?”

 

-and he was released. Air rushed into his lungs and he shuddered slightly on the exhale. Steve. It was Steve, not a threat. His oppon- _Steve_ had his back to him, making it easy to move into a more defendable spot with a clear escape route. The other man payed no attention, rummaging through the cupboards and fridge, pulling out more things than Bucky could name.

 

“We’ve got eggs, cereal, fruit, I think Clint left enough bacon and hash browns, might need to check that…”

 

“тост? У вас есть варень ?” The small kitchen get even quieter as Steve froze, before looking over at him. He shifted his weight, not well enough to hide it either, but the pan was still gripped loose enough. But Bucky’s eyes caught the way his grip changed. Steve was on the defensive and preparing for an attack. Over such a simple request? Was that not a thing that he used to like? Because he liked it now. What was he supposed to do?

 

“Is everything okay, Buck? You feeling alright? Not going to turn into the soldier again?” Turn into the Soldier? He felt fine, why was Steve so worried? All he’d done was- _oh._

 

“Yeah, no, everything’s fine Stevie.” Hands raised, _surrender._ His heart raced as he fought to keep his breathing steady. “Still waking up, brain gets confused, ya know? I’m fine, I promise.” Steve’s posture was slowly relaxing, the frying pan coming to rest on the countertop. _You’re not a threat, you’re not a threat, you’re not going to be punished_. As calm as he was on the outside, his mind was churning like winter seas. It was working though. Steve had completely relaxed again, hip braced against the counter and running one through his hair.

 

“You had me for a moment there, Buck. ‘S too early for that kinda scare. Breakfast?”

 

\---------

 

One plate of toast and sweet Wakandan jam later – not the marmalade that Bucky had been hoping for sadly – and the pair were sat on the front steps of Steve’s compound. It was a nice little lawn area, just enough space taken from the jungle to stretch your legs and let the sun through the canopy. It had been a simple matter to get Steve on his right-hand side, He didn’t think the other man had even noticed. But now, Steve wanted to talk.

 

“Where have you been, Buck? You just disappeared last time, I didn’t know where you were.”

 

“I’m sorry, I just had to leave. It was rude, ducking out on you like that.” Steve leaned against Bucky and bumped shoulders with him. He’d been trying to get Bucky to make eye contact all morning, and Bucky was still refusing him. Instead, he faced forward and focused on a particularly twisted tree. Anything but his friend next to him.

 

“It’s okay Buck. I kinda wish you’d stuck around, Clint made a really nice lasagne out of some of the left-overs and we watched a movie. You’d have loved it, I know you would’ve. I mean;” he shrugged, nudging Bucky again, “there were no English subtitles but it was still good.” His nails caught the edge of the seam on his jeans. Did the old Bucky like movies? Did he like them now?

 

“I haven’t been to the movies in a while.” He admitted. His friend laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder. Thankfully the flinch that clawed at Bucky’s shoulder blades stayed buried amongst the bone and metal. He didn’t think that Steve would’ve noticed anyway, busy carrying on about…

 

“-nestly amazed you didn’t get kicked out of the theatre! Buck, you were so smug. Nearly as much as the time you beat Tommy St Claire at pool. Oh! Remember Anna-Grace Williams? How many times did you see _Dark Victory_ with her? You were so smitten, Buck, it was ridiculous. Anna-Grace this, Anna-Grace that, and then you broke things off with her, can’t remember why. Something about her brother, I think you said. Or was it her father?”

 

The expectant look sat on Bucky’s shoulders, thicker than the humid air. The seam he’d been playing with was starting to fray ever-so slightly. He had to answer. Steve was waiting for an answer. _Just tell him, dammit!_

 

“Least I didn’t get beat up outside the theatre once.” He managed to blurt out. He was pretty sure that’d happened, or maybe it was a diner. He was saved by his friend’s laugh and subsequent shoulder nudge.

 

“Was more than a once Buck, you always stepped in and beat them instead.” A flash of a grin in the corner of his eye. “Of course, you got beat once or twice yourself. It’s nice to be able to fight back nowadays.” Suddenly the toast was a brick in his stomach, his throat threatening to close. _A glowing palm raised and aiming at him-_ no. _Why did Stark take his helmet off-_ stop, stop thinking. Take a breath and remember what Doctor Nokhanyo said. Don’t let the guilt take control.

 

“Once you get a new arm you’ll be able to train with the team. Clint is our eyes in the sky but it’ll be good for him to have backup and since Thor is off world so often you’ll be able to take his role as a heavy hitter. The guy’s great, but you can’t rely on him to be there when there’s a call. He’s in Asgard right now but you’ll meet him eventually. You’ll need a code name too, Buck.”

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

 

“They’re making me a new arm at the moment actually. It’s still in the final design stages, but I’m really excited for it.” Bucky quietly offers. He could feel himself starting to shake, that fine tremor that ran up his spine and down his arm and sparked its way to his feet. It was like an itch to stand and move; to _get away_ because he didn’t know what he wanted but that wasn’t it.

 

“Serious Buck? That’s amazing! Wakanda’s tech is the best in the world, although it’s not the easiest to use sometimes. Really, how complicated can a microwave _be?_ ”

 

“Not the Stark tech you’re used to, huh?” He couldn’t resist the comment, a subtle dig that hopefully the handler- _Steve_ wouldn’t notice it for what it was. He ran his tongue over his teeth. The Winter Soldier had rarely been used to get Intel that didn’t purposefully end with the subject dead and mutilated. Ghosts didn’t ask questions after all.

 

“What? No, hell no Buck.” His old friend snorted; “he’s good but his tech isn’t exactly complicated or special. Besides, anything Tony makes has to be connected to his AI. Even the toaster was connected for Pete’s sake! And he doesn’t have a good track record with them either. The last one he made was evil and Tony still thinks he’s a hero for making it. At least Howard stuck to weapons and flying cars.”

 

\---------

 

It hadn’t been easy to extract himself from Steve’s company before anyone else woke up and joined them. In the end he’d had to agree to a movie night with his friend’s team next time they had one. He’d have to check one of his notebooks to see if he liked movies and had a favourite kind, just in case Steve asked. Once he had gotten away, he’d headed off to Doctor Nokhanyo’s office for his appointment. He liked Doc, he did, but her questions left him exhausted. And stressed. He was going to have to patch the inseam of these jeans when he had two arms again; he could nearly fit a finger through the frayed denim.

 

And what kind of arm did he want? Princess Shuri and Stark had given him so many _choices_. The folder spread across his kitchen table mentioned a synthetic covering that would blend seamlessly with his skin to hide the mechanics underneath. He could hide his loss, pretend it’d never happened and go on with his life. He could be the friend that Steve remembered. But was that what he wanted? To pretend he was the Bucky Barnes of the 1940s who’d never been to war or lost and arm or been a POW for most of his life? And if he wasn’t going to be that Bucky, and wasn’t the Asset anymore, then who was he?

 

 _He’d nearly bolted from the room when Doctor Nokhanyo had asked who he was. He didn’t know. He didn’t know who had been and he didn’t know who or what he wanted to be now. The panic had nearly overwhelmed him, driving his heart rate into jagged spikes and left him gasping for an exit route. He wasn’t who Steve wanted him to be. He wasn’t_ Bucky _. The confident charmer had been razed to the bone and Hydra had built the_ Солдат _in his place. But the_ Солдат _wasn’t designed to last, to grow. Like a house anchored to a shale cliff face the Asset had drowned in the Potomac and something new had crawled out._

 

_“So who crawled out then; if it wasn’t the Winter Soldier and you aren’t Bucky Barnes anymore?”_

And there he was back at square one. He leaned his elbow on the table and held his head in his hand. The papers spread in front of him were in English, although the Princess had included a USB stick that apparently had copies in Russian and Romanian, “just in case” the note taped to the front had said. The more the words swam on the paper the more he was tempted. Like Bucky Barnes, he could read English, but like the Asset, he preferred Russian or German. For fucks sake. He just wanted an arm, not more kindling for the identity crisis.

 

_The few of the Soldier’s missions had led to him killing people in courtrooms. A witness who’d remained protected until the moment of trial, a lawyer or judge who was causing Hydra problems and whose death would be best if witnessed by the world. As he stumbled, recounting his breakfast with Steve, Doc took notes like a stenographer at knifepoint._

_“Steve seems very focused on helping you remember who you used to be. Does talking about the past help you?”_

_“I don’t know who he’s talking about.”_

_“No?”_

_“He was talking about Bucky Bar- me, talking about his memories of me and I just wanted him to stop. And, and, and then he kept talking about the future. He wants Bucky to be part of the team. To fight. I don’t want to. To fight.”_

_“What do you want to do then?”_

_“I, I don’t know.”_

The papers on the table were split down the middle; one half documenting the Wakandan arm and the other taken up by Stark’s ‘apology’ arm. The princess’s arm was gorgeous, the nerves would be better and it would be able to take on anything in a fight. But since he didn’t want to fight, was that such a priority? If he took Stark’s arm, the nerves would be limited yet still more than he’d had since he lost his original arm. It was also lighter, more flexible, less like a multi-tool for combat and closer to matching his remaining biological arm. So that meant the Stark option would be the better choice right?

 

He got up from the table and wandered around his home, closing the windows and pulling the curtains to muffle any noise the jungle brought to him. What was it Steve had said at breakfast? _Anything Tony makes has to be connected to his AI._ There was nothing in the notes that mentioned any kind of connection to an artificial intelligence. The princess hadn’t mentioned anything about it either. What good would it do Stark to have control over his arm; the man himself had broken the trigger sequence. Even if he spoke Russian it wouldn’t do any good. _Aha! Winter Soldier, I command you to lose this game of paper-scissors-rock against me!_ Barnes snorted. Yeah, such a threat.

 

That didn’t change Steve’s assessment of the engineer though. _Tony still thinks he’s a hero._ That had to be a joke, the man he’d met thought himself as low as the dirt. If that was the real Tony Stark. No one seemed to know the man, and that made a character assessment unreliable without investing some serious time getting to know Stark - and even then he had no guarantee of learning who ‘Tony’ was. He’d barely talked to Stark and Steve’s list was already warped with inaccuracies.

 

_“I had a flashback. In the lab. Stark, he, he helped me calm down. He asked me what it was about, I can’t figure out why. And then he told me about B.A.R.F. and his p- p- par- mum and dad and what happened before everything went wrong.”_

_“What was the flashback about?”_

_“My teeth. Hydra punishing me for being Bucky and not the soldier.”_

_“Do you think that has anything to do with the distance or disconnect you have from Bucky Barnes pre-Hydra? Is it maybe a coping mechanism or reflex to avoid some kind of punishment, or do you think it is because you truly aren’t Bucky Barnes anymore?”_

 

 

Steve wasn’t the man that Bucky could remember though either. He didn’t listen, had talked over him and was so, so… _certain_ in himself and his opinions. What he could remember of Steve before the war was of a man who was determined to protect people, but not at the expense of others. Usually at the expense of his own health, and he refused to ask even Bucky for help. Or if the person even _wanted_ help. Maybe that’s where the problem came from – or maybe it was because the man thought he had to fight to be heard like he was still ninety pounds soaking wet and instead of being heard, he overpowered.

_It’s nice to be able to fight back nowadays._

 

Barnes’ stomach lurched and he gripped the back of the dining room chair to steady himself. He didn’t have to fight if he didn’t want to. No one could make him. Steve was able to take care of himself now. But what if he was forced to somehow? What if he didn’t have the best tools to defend himself, if he ended up on the run again or Hydra got hold of him? If that happened though, wouldn’t it be better to have the weaker arm – if he wasn’t such an effective weapon surely he be less use to Hydra and not have to kill so many people?

 

With a deep breath he braced himself. He didn’t need to know everything about who he was now to make a choice. He knew enough. He padded silently around the table, mismatched socks on his feet helping muffle the sound against the rough thump of his heart.

 

The phone was right where he’d left it, sitting on the kitchen bench by the kettle. He could do this.

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

 

[MESSAGE SENT: 19:46]

[SENDER: _Phone Two_ ]

_Hi Mister Stark. I think I’ve made up my mind about the arm._

_Barnes_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation (via google translate and kindly corrected by Yami_no_Serena, thank you!)  
> у вас есть варенье? - Do you have jam?
> 
> Steve's ignorance and unwillingness to see what's in front of him rather in his mind strikes again, this time really hitting home to Bucky just how much he's changed. "Dark Victory" is a real movie that was released in 1939 and seems like the kind of sad romance that people like to cry over repeatedly (I'm not a romantic/romcom kind of person despite rereading fanfic with the same premises). And I just realised that I've written Bucky as being possibly closeted to Steve? But I can tell you that Bucky didn't call it quits with Anna-Grace because he was warned off by her family. We'll get to that later *dramatic music*...
> 
> Guess what? I have chapter eight planned out already, and have a good idea as to what will happen chapter nine, which I am so fucking pleased with. I think this is the first chapter since chapter one I haven't had to fight with and I'm really looking forward to writing the next one :D
> 
> Long story: real life is having an impact on my mental health still, which is in turn having an impact on my life. I'm doing okay, but working in customer service at Christmas time has done a number on me - physically and mentally. I'm applying to go back to university next year though and my brain is all over this place so I hope this turned out okay.
> 
> Love you all <3

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts? :)


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